


Frelled All Over Again

by cathy1967



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathy1967/pseuds/cathy1967
Summary: John and the gang run into trouble and Scorpius gives John something new to be afraid of. (Season 3 - up to Self-Inflicted Wounds Part 2)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This story falls outside canon. It takes place after Self-Inflicted Wounds Part 2. Zhaan is gone, Stark has gone off to find her soul, there has been no twinning, and John and Aeryn are an item. The only difference here is that John has had the neural bleed removed by a diagnosian, which has freed him of Harvey. This is briefly mentioned, but not a major part of this story. John is still strongly affected by the Scorpy-clone's takeover and Aeryn's death and subsequent revival. He's struggling with the aftereffects (fear) and responds accordingly.

**On Moya**

**Author's note:** This story falls outside canon. It takes place after Self-Inflicted Wounds Part 2. Zhaan is gone, Stark has gone off to find her soul, there has been no twinning, and John and Aeryn are an item. The only difference here is that John has had the neural bleed removed by a diagnosian, which has freed him of Harvey. This is briefly mentioned, but not a major part of this story. John is still strongly affected by the Scorpy-clone's takeover and Aeryn's death and subsequent revival. He's struggling with the aftereffects (fear) and responds accordingly.

***

With all that had happened to him over the cycles he had been in the Uncharted Territories, the worst by far had been Scorpius. And yes, the Aurora chair had been a very, very bad experience, one he had been set on not to repeat at any cost. But that had been before the threat to his sanity.

The chair had cost him, but what had come after had nearly driven him over the edge. John had never considered himself suicidal before. He had come close when his mother had died, but he had never consciously considered blowing his brains out before the neural chip Scorpius had installed in his head had deprived him of a great chunk of his sanity.

To have his consciousness so utterly taken over by the thing he feared the most was such a violation, that he couldn't even put it in words.

"I really don't think this is a good idea."

The bed was big. It was wide and long, far too big for even the both of them. Moya's top tier had suddenly revealed these quarters and even Aeryn had not been able to tell him how they had missed this for the past two and a half cycles.

They had a view up here, and John loved it. They didn't spend all that much time in these quarters, mainly because there was a lot of running away going on and it was a bit of a trek to Command from where they presently were, but it was still a place they used on occasion, to be alone, to shut out the universe and just be there for each other.

A pleasant shudder ran up his spine when her fingernails trailed up his back. He lay there on his stomach, arms folded under his chin, while he watched the stars glide by.

Aeryn shifted and pressed her lips against his right shoulder blade, making him momentarily forget about the stars. He closed his eyes and groaned, then rolled over on his side and pulled her close. "I know," he admitted a little reluctantly. "Stupid idea. Forget I said anything."

"Hard to forget something like that," she said. "Why would you even consider it?"

"Because I'm stupid, remember? I do dumb stuff all the time. Stuff that makes you roll your eyes at the stupid human," he claimed and kissed her. He rolled over on his back, pulling her on top of him.

"After this long, John, I have come to realize that you use your stupidity as an excuse," she said, trailing her fingers over his face. "You are far from stupid. You learn slower than dren, but you are not stupid."

He couldn't help a chuckle at that. "Thanks," he countered and kissed the tip of her nose. "I think."

This made her snort with a smile on her lips. "You are, however, frelling weird."

"And I always will be, babe," he promised.

She glanced upward for a second, then pushed herself up on both hands and stared out at the stars, her demeanor suddenly very different. "What the frell?"

John tipped his head backward and caught sight of what she was looking at.

" _Commander Crichton. Officer Sun. Prepare for immediate starburst,_ " Pilot's voice rang from the coms.

The forward viewscreen blacked out when Moya abruptly went into starburst, and the suddenness of the action sent them both sliding off the bed.

John landed hard, with her weight on top of him, and grunted when the impact expelled most of his air. "Ow," he huffed.

Aeryn scrambled off him and quickly got dressed, while he struggled to sit up. "Are you hurt?" she asked when he didn't get up quickly enough.

"No, just winded," he pressed out. "What the hell was that? That looked like a command carrier."

"It was," she agreed and paused while pulling on one boot. "For frell's sake, John, I'm not that heavy."

He picked up the pace and pulled his t-shirt over his head, then buckled his belt. "No, but this is a damned tall bed, Aeryn, and I wasn't prepared."

She smirked cheekily at him. "You never are," she claimed.

Together they rushed down to Command and found D'Argo and Chiana already there. "Where's Buckwheat?" John asked and glanced around for the little Dominar.

"Who the frell cares?" D'Argo growled. He was never in a good mood when he was awoken before time, and especially not when he was thrown out of bed by a starburst.

"Pilot, was that what I think it was?" Aeryn asked and quickly checked a few readings.

" _Yes, Officer Sun, it was._ "

"Frell," John muttered and sidled up behind her to look over her shoulder. "Did they see us? Do they know we're here?" He absentmindedly noted that some type of mist was oozing out of some of the ducts, but paid it little attention. The threat of a command carrier having spotted them was much more pressing at this time.

" _I do not think so. I believe Moya managed to starburst before they spotted us,_ " Pilot replied.

John felt the tension slowly draining out of him at those words. "That's good news," he said, still watching what Aeryn was doing on the console.

"Yes, good news," she agreed and glanced over at the clamshell. "Any sign of pursuit?" she asked nonetheless.

" _No, Officer Sun. None. We got away clean this time,_ " Pilot replied.

John slipped his arms around her. "You are distracting on a good day, you know that?" he muttered into her ear.

D'Argo grumbled something about rutting animals under his breath while Chiana chuckled. Both of them left Command again, and John had no doubt that D'Argo at least was heading off to bed again. A sleep deprived Luxan was almost as bad as a Luxan in hyperrage.

Chiana, on the other hand, had seemed far too awake and put together to have just been thrown out of bed, and he briefly wondered what she did all night.

Aeryn leaned back against him for a moment, then grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from her stomach. "Could you think with something other than your crotch for just a few microts, John?" she admonished. She didn't sound angry, but there was a definite tone he had learned to heed.

"What's wrong?" he asked and reluctantly let go of her to take a step back.

For a moment, she just stood there, bracing herself against the console, her back to him. Then she turned around to face him and he didn't much like the look in her eyes. "That was a command carrier, John."

"I know, baby. And I'm just as freaked about it as you are," he countered, still not really sure where she was going with this.

There was a small part of him that wondered why he wasn't more freaked about it. Since the latest events, that had rattled their little group to the core, his own paranoia had reached new heights and the mere thought of running into Peacekeepers could send a shudder of fear through him.

He was still reeling from the total and utter loss of control the neural chip had caused in him. A good night was when he didn't wake up thinking Aeryn was dead and Scorpius was flaying his mind. Whatever fears he had harbored about the half-breed before had doubled in strength.

"How could it track us here?" Aeryn asked, dividing his attention.

He blinked, a sense of unreality sweeping him, and subconscious fears that had ridden him like a damned nightmare for the better part of two cycles, resurfaced again. He felt the twitch on his face, but could no more suppress it than Aeryn could suppress her Peacekeeper upbringing in times of extreme stress. "What are you saying?" he asked nonetheless.

"Are you certain that all the hardware is gone? That the clone is gone?" Her tone of voice was almost timid. She knew him too well already, knew how freaked out he was about the mere idea that he was still somehow tethered to Scorpius.

He rolled his head to one side, cracking his neck, and grimaced at the thought. "Yeah, I'm sure. It's gone. That diagnosian on Malaria got it all," he said, more to convince himself than her. He'd been out cold for the duration. "You know that. You were there."

She broke eye contact, shifted her attention to something past his right shoulder, and pressed her lips together into a thin line. "Medrasia. The planet's name was Medrasia, not Malaria," she said. "And I was," she agreed with a vague nod. "But I am not a medic, John. I have no frelling clue what he was doing. All I had was his word that he had removed it all."

Forcefully shoving all the fear aside, he stepped forward and took a hold of her shoulders, forcing a smile onto his lips. "Harvey is gone, Aeryn. I haven't felt him or heard him or even sensed him since the operation. My mind is my own again. There's no more crap floating around in there that doesn't belong."

Her gaze locked on his again, a slight furrow between her brows speaking volumes. "Are you completely certain?"

"Yes, babe. I'm completely, one hundred and ten percent certain. This was a freak occurrence. There are more command carriers buzzing around out there than just Scorpy's, after all. He's not the only one joyriding through the UTs." He could feel the tension seeping out of her and relished the small yet sincere smile that slipped over her lips. And still something clattered around in the back of his mind, trying to draw his attention to the fact that he was able to push it aside at all.

"You're right, of course," she consented.

"Of course I am," he agreed with a chuckle that he didn't entirely feel. Her fears had reawakened his own and it was hard to stop the terror for rearing its ugly head again. "Let's go back to bed. I'm bushed and my butt's still hurting from falling off the bed."

This made her laugh, which he briefly considered an odd reaction in the face of their shared concern, but she slipped her arms around him, grabbing his ass with both hands, and completely made him forget his fears. "And it's such a nice one at that," she said, her tone completely changed. She pressed against him, getting an immediate rise out of him, and smirked. "You know, I'm actually hungry," she said and shifted, drawing a restrained groan from him. "I think I'm going to get a snack."

He locked his arms around her, trying to hold her in place, but, as always, she displayed her superior strength and easily broke his hold on her. "You are so gonna pay for this," he growled when she slipped away from him and strode out of Command. It took him a moment to wind down again, before he turned around and followed her at a run.

***

"I do not believe you have anything to complain about, John," D'Argo claimed and let the foodcube drop back onto his plate with an expression of disgust.

"Do to," John countered. "I'm sick of this. Sick of being hunted. Sick of the whole frelling galaxy breathing down my frelling neck. I at least want a decent meal." He shoved his own plate away, folded his arms on the tabletop and dropped his head on them. "I'm tired. I want peace. I want to be able to set down somewhere and not fear that I'll be captured and tortured and killed every frelling microt I'm on the ground."

"It is not even certain that it was Scorpius' command carrier," D'Argo tried and glanced at Aeryn. She met his eyes dead on while slipping a hand onto John's back.

"I know that," John muttered against his arms. "But it could have been and I don't know how that freak keeps finding me if it was. I can't do this anymore. It's like I'm living in a frigging nightmare and I just can't wake up." He turned his head and looked up at Aeryn. "No offence, babe."

"None taken," she countered. "Whether it was Scorpius' carrier or not, the fact remains that we run into Peacekeepers at every frelling turn and there has to be a reason for it. The technology is out of his head, yet they keep finding us." She ran her fingers through his hair, brushing the edge of his ear with her thumb, and almost smiled when he closed his eyes.

He was so frelling needy when it came to touching, but she had found that she had gotten quite fond of that bit of their relationship.

"Well, apart from that, you have nothing to complain about," D'Argo said, obviously set on being right about something.

"Yes, I do," John shot back and raised his head to glare balefully at his friend. "I have plenty to complain about. I …" He halted and leaned his head into Aeryn's touch, obviously distracted by it.

"Stop arguing. This is not about who has it worse," Aeryn said and curled her fingers into his hair, taking a hold. "You are both so frelling stubborn."

"I am not stubborn," D'Argo claimed indignantly.

"Yeah, neither am I," John tried and flinched when she tugged at his hair.

"Stop it, both of you," she said, then suddenly realized that they had actually agreed on something for the first time in quite a while.

"Aeryn, babe, could you … uhm … let go of my hair?"

She did, smoothing her hand over the spot, then shifted it down to his neck when he sat up again. "Sorry," she said.

"Stop what? You're complaining about us arguing, but it's wrong too when we agree?" D'Argo asked and gave her a withering glare, that had about as much effect as a knife against a pulse pistol.

Aeryn shrugged. "I'm so used to that you two bicker all the time, that I've stopped listening," she countered.

John turned his attention toward her. "You're not listening to me?" he asked. "Well, now I got why I never have a leg to stand on around here."

A brief stern look shut him up, but she still felt the urge to slap him upside the head for that remark. "Perhaps we should start checking through Moya manually. It could be something left behind by the Peacekeepers, something small," she suggested.

"Now there's an idea," John said, slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "I know there was a reason for that I married you."

She snorted. "We are not married," she reminded him.

"No, but we could be," he said and nuzzled her neck.

"Oh, for frell's sake. Why don't you two go to your room?" D'Argo huffed.

Aeryn elbowed John in the side, making him lean back with a huff. "This should be first on our agenda. We have to find out why they keep tracking us down," she said and glanced at John. "So, keep it in your pants for now. There'll be plenty of time for that later."

D'Argo got up. "You are right. We should do that right away," he said and grinned at John's suffering look. "Take a cold shower, my friend. Work first, frell later."

That said, he left the center chamber behind.

John and Aeryn rose too. "Where's Pip?" John asked.

"I don't know. She hasn't been very social lately, has she?" Aeryn countered.

"Come to think of it, I haven't seen Sparky around either," John added, a slight frown furrowing his brow. "It's not like that little eating machine to pass up a meal."

"I'm sure they're both okay," Aeryn said, grabbed a handful of his t-shirt and pulled him a little closer. "You have got to get it together, John. You cannot think about sex all the time."

He slipped his arms around her, pulling her closer still. "Why not?" he asked and leaned in to kiss her.

Aeryn planted her palm on his face and pushed him back. "Not now," she said with a smile. "Stop being so frelling needy all the time."

"I'm not needy," he claimed and peeled her hand off his face before kissing her palm and almost making her regret she had come up with a plan of action for them. "I'm horney."

She nodded, unable to keep the smile at bay. Even though he was obnoxious at times, she still couldn't help liking him for it. "I've noticed." And this started a whole chain reaction of thoughts in her head. "Pilot?"

" _Yes, Officer Sun_." Pilot sounded grumpy, like he was vexed over being disturbed.

"Is there something wrong with Moya's systems?" she asked and again had to push John back a bit, because he kept nuzzling her neck and it was extremely distracting.

" _There is an overflow of Drexim in Moya's systems right now,_ " Pilot said and growled under his breath.

Aeryn frowned. "What's causing it?" she asked. "John, stop it," she added and shoved him back a step.

" _I do believe that this near miss has caused an overproduction of Drexim. Along with the burns Moya has suffered previously, it is a little out of control,_ " Pilot replied. " _Was there anything else?_ "

Aeryn frowned lightly. "No, thank you, Pilot," she said.

"What - the frell - is drexim?" John asked, pulling her closer again.

Knowing what was causing this now made Aeryn more clearheaded. She still felt the effects, but could rationalize them now. "Pheromones," she said. "It stimulates the fight-or-flight response in a leviathan. "

"Uh-huh," John muttered, nuzzling her ear. "Sorta like adrenaline in Humans. Makes you wanna fight and … other things."

"For frell's sake, stop it, John, and listen to me," she snapped and ripped out of his grip, then grabbed his face and tried to gain eye contact, but his gaze kept wandering down to her cleavage. "Look at me," she insisted.

He did while chewing on his lower lip, and she felt the effect of the Drexim herself. "Pheromones. Check. Got it," he agreed.

"I don't think you do," she growled, grabbed his arm and pulled him with her. She had no idea if her plan was going to work, but she needed him to 'sober up', as he called it.

She hauled him with her into the cleansing room, turned the shower on as cold as it would go and shoved him in under the falling water.

He gasped and tried to get back out, but she blocked his way. "HOLY HELL, that's cold!" he gasped. "What the hell was that for?"

"Drexim," she repeated. "Remember? Moya has an overproduction of it right now. It's affecting us."

He blinked, then reached out to turn the water off. "Okay, yeah, got it. Drexim bad," he said, already shivering. "Next time consider throwing a cup of water in my face instead, okay?"

She smirked, still feeling the effects herself, but knew that he would be okay for a little bit at least.

"Aw man," he groaned when he stepped out again, dripping wet. "You drowned Winona." He checked his pulse pistol, aimed at the far wall and pulled the trigger. All the pulse pistol did was sputter.

"You are too frelling attached to that pistol, John," she admonished. "Get a new one."

"Yeah, right, as if any of the others would be that reliable. Winona has never let me down," he claimed. He caught the towel she threw him and dried his face, then looked down himself. "I'm gonna go change. Is there anything Pilot can do about the Drexim?"

"No. As long as Moya is secreting it, there's nothing we can do but deal with it. This will probably mean more cold showers for you," she said.

He gave her a look she couldn't read, and then left the cleansing room to get changed.

Aeryn leaned back against the wall and briefly closed her eyes. There was nothing in this universe she wanted more than him right now, but they could not let themselves be distracted by their baser needs. "Later," she muttered, pushed away from the wall and headed in the opposite direction.

***

He was so cold he was shivering and it kept any other urges at bay for now. In their quarters, he shimmied out of the wet clothes and dried off before getting dressed again. He still felt the lust, but knew now what it was, and it dampened the urges. Not by much, but it did its part.

"Keep a clear head, man," he muttered while tying his laces, then rose to his feet, only to be hurled backward so suddenly, he did a backflip over the bed and hit the floor behind it. "Son of a … " he snapped and picked himself up in time to see the lights flickering off. "Pilot?"

There was no reply. Trapped in complete darkness, he had to feel his way around the bed, while he tried to understand what the hell had just happened. It had felt a bit like Moya had hit a wall or something.

"Aeryn?" he yelled while running his hands over the bed, where he knew he had dropped the com badge. He found it and tapped it, but nothing happened. "Shit," he growled.

He knew there were flashlights in a storage compartment further down the corridor, but he was unable to see anything and was completely disoriented for the time being. "What the hell was that?" he muttered.

He made it out into the corridor, with his useless pulse pistol in hand, when he heard sounds. "Aeryn?" he called out. What he heard were footsteps and it took him a moment to realize that he heard many. Blinking into the darkness, he pressed up against the latticework of the wall, flattening himself as much as possible.

The footsteps came closer and for a moment he thought they would pass him by, but then they stopped. All of them. Unable to see anything, he could only rely on his hearing and the sense that a lot of eyes were on him.

"That's him. Grab him," a voice said and a split second later, hands grabbed him.

"What? No, get off me," he yelped, startled by the contact. He tried to bring his pulse pistol up, but someone hammered something down on his wrist, making him let go with a yelp. That didn't stop him from fighting them, though. He yanked backward, tried to get a hold of someone so he could use this person as a shield, but they could obviously see, where he was completely blind in the darkness. "Get off me!" he yelled.

Whoever they were, they forcibly cuffed his hands behind him and started ushering him along the corridor with him fighting them every step of the way.

"Who the hell are you guys? What do you want?" he snapped, but received no reply.

The thought that the missing lights could be because of an immobilizer pulse hit him like a ton of bricks, but he was distracted when he suddenly heard Aeryn yelling at someone. "Get on the ground. Now!"

A few pulse blasts lit up the corridor ahead of them in flashes and he saw her there, with two pulse pistols, shooting at … Peacekeepers?

His fear went into overdrive immediately and he upped his resistance again, only to get pistol whipped over the back of the head. It wasn't hard enough to knock him out, but it did make his knees give out and would have spilled him to the floor if they hadn't been holding onto him.

Another few shots were fired and by the last flash, he saw a blast hitting Aeryn and throwing her backward. "AEYRN! NO!" he yelled and lunged forward.

They almost lost their grip on him then, but it cost him another knock over the head, which sent him to his knees.

"Stop that!" someone demanded. "Scorpius will be furious is you damage him."

Scorpius? His heart was trying to work its way out of his ribcage and he found it a little hard to draw a decent breath. Panic was overtaking him, Aeryn had been shot, and he was being dragged away by Peacekeeper soldiers.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard D'Argo roaring in Luxan and for a split second he dared hope, but the roar was answered by weapons fire, which was followed by silence. "D'ARGO!" he yelled, again trying to break free, but one of the soldiers grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head backward.

"Stop resisting, Crichton. There is nowhere for you to go."

It did nothing, though. He fought them all the way, trying to break their hold on him, trying to get out of their grasp, but with no success.

They entered one of the bays after a bit, and he only knew that because the marauder waiting for them lit up the area somewhat.

Blinking against the sudden light, he finally got a look at the soldiers that had come to arrest him. He knew none of them, which really made no difference, because he knew who had sent them and he knew where they were taking him.

They were all wearing night vision goggles, and there were a lot of them. More than he could fight. They dragged him into the marauder and his continued struggle to get free forced them to pin him to the floor and it took three of them to keep him down, while they waited for the remaining few commandos to join them. From what they said, he figured Aeryn and D'Argo had taken out a few, but obviously not enough. And it had most likely cost them both their lives.

The thought that they both might be dead settled on him like a crushing weight, but he would not yet allow himself to believe that. He kept trying to fight them off, even after the hatch had closed and the marauder took off.

***


	2. Chapter 2

The trip to the command carrier was harrowing at best. Every chance he got, he fought them, and every chance they got, they knocked him down.

Nobody spoke to him, which left him in the dark about a great many things. His attempt to get them to tell him what had happened to Moya they met with devastating silence. He clung to the hope that what he had seen hadn't been real, that the flashes had not shown him what had really happened, that the silence after the shoot at D'Argo only meant that the Luxan had been knocked out, that the flash that had thrown Aeryn back hadn't been a direct hit, but rather a shockwave or something.

He kept trying to rationalize it, kept trying to keep his darkest fears at bay, but he could feel the fear bubbling under the surface, could feel panic creeping up on him. If D'Argo and Aeryn were out of commission, he was on his own. Chiana did not have the fortitude to come after him and Rygel would rather run than fight.

He made another attempt at getting up, but the commando assigned to keeping an eye on him, floored him at once again by grabbing his neck and shoving his face against the floorplates.

"We'll be there in a few microts," one of the goons said, not to him but to his comrades-in-arms.

The commando who was currently keeping him down, his hand still clamped onto John's neck, his knee pressed down between his shoulder blades, leaned down. "It'll be good to hand you over to Scorpius. He'll know how to deal with dren like you," he hissed, his breath hot on John's ear.

John bucked, nearly managed to throw the guy off, but was instantly kicked hard in the side by another one. Since the first guy still had a hold of his neck, he couldn't roll away from the kick and gasped at the pain it caused. If it had only been a bit harder, he was sure it would have broken his ribs.

***

The moment the marauder touched down, two of the goons yanked him back to his feet and dragged him out into the landing bay. John had expected Scorpius to be waiting for him, but there was no sign of the half-breed or his underlings.

They dragged him along, and he refused to take more than a few steps at a time, constantly tried to rip free, and could tell that they would love to shoot him for his obstinacy. But, of course, they would have to answer to Scorpius if they killed him.

Finally, they dragged him into a room and only let go of him once the door had shut behind them.

And there was Scorpius, standing in front of some console, that smug look in his eyes and a faint smile on his lips. "John," he said and spread his arms as if greeting a long-awaited friend.

Panic was a hair's breadth away and even though the half-breed was halfway across the room, John still reared back a step, bumping into one of the soldiers as a result. The commando shoved him hard in the back, making him stumble a step or two forward. "You stay the hell away from me, Scorpius," John snarled and pulled back again.

Scorpius let his arms sink to his sides and sighed. "This is, by far, the best solution for all involved, John. This is an inevitable reunion. I am glad you survived the extraction of the neural chip. And I am very glad that you are finally here." He took a step forward, which sent John backwards another step. This time, the commando didn't attempt to push him forward again.

"What the hell do you want from me? You got your frelling wormhole tech. Why can't you just leave me the hell alone?" John snapped, well aware that his fear was showing loud and clear.

"Ah, but therein lies the problem, John. I wish I could leave you alone. But there has been a … glitch in the data. My … scientists cannot unlock it. Therefore, we need you," Scorpius countered and waved at the soldiers. "Those handcuffs are not necessary. I am certain we can come to an agreement here."

The soldiers removed the cuffs, but having his hands free did little to make John feel better. He knew how strong Scorpius was, how ruthless when he was pushed. In a vain search for something that might quell his terror at being in Scorpius' custody again, he briefly let his gaze roam over the room. It seemed to be some kind of lab.

Braca was standing at attention next to another door and another commando took up the other side. Apart from that, the only other door was the one he had come in through, and that was also guarded by two soldiers. There was no way out, not unless he could somehow take out four Peacekeepers and Scorpius, which he knew up front he couldn't.

And even if he should get so lucky, there was a whole boat full of PKs, that would love to see his head mounted on a wall. Without help, he was up shit creek without a paddle, at the mercy of a monster, and he just knew that he was in so deep, that he was literally drowning in it.

"I don't have access to the wormhole tech," he said, his voice a little calmer now. It didn't mean that his fear had lessened. He knew it was an illusion if he allowed himself to believe that they could speak like equals. "I can't access it. It's buried. You got what I have and I don't even know half of what you have."

Scorpius tilted his head to the left and smiled. "I do believe that together, we can unlock it. The right circumstances will most likely allow you to access the information. Don't you think?"

He glanced sideways at the half-breed and swallowed convulsively. He couldn't give Scorpius the information he was after, because he didn't know how to access it. That was the truth and a reason for that Scorpius hadn't lost his temper yet.

He could tell that John wasn't lying. But the fact remained, that he couldn't hand over this information to Scorpius any more than he could give it to the Scarrans, and the thought of what Scorpius would do to him to get both his cooperation and the information terrified him.

At this point in time, he figured he only had one of two options. He could get cocky, resist, and end up in the Aurora chair again. He could tell Scorpy what to do with his research and risk getting killed in some heinous way or other. Or he could give in and try to work with the freak.

The latter was completely out of the question, which left the first, and he simply didn't have the mental fortitude to work up an attitude right now. If he did anything, he figured he would lose it, would panic.

"No," he finally said. His voice jittered, he couldn't help it. The fear was threatening to eat him alive right now, the hopelessness of the situation making it difficult for him to focus on anything other than the risk of reliving his worst nightmare. He shook his head lightly. "No, I'm not going to … work with you on this."

It wasn't a surprise that Scorpy's expression darkened at that. "John …"

"NO," John snapped and sidestepped the soldiers at the door to retreat into the corner that was furthest away from the half-breed. "Not gonna happen. I have had enough of your crap, Scorpy! You attacked us, you killed my friends, you …" He stopped when his voice broke. Saying it out loud made it all the more real and he struggled against his surging emotions for a moment. "You don't get shit from me. You think I'm gonna help you unlock this crap after what you just did to me?"

Scorpius regarded him like he was a special kind of bug that needed to be studied. "If you will not help me willingly, John, I'm afraid I will have no other option than to force you," he said and took a step towards him.

John shook his head. "Nope, no way, not gonna happen," he insisted, pushing into the corner with enough force to bruise his ribs. He was panicking, he knew he was, but he could do nothing to stop it.

Scorpius waved a hand at him, which set the soldiers in motion toward him.

He tried to keep an eye on all three of them while not losing track of what Scorpius was doing when the half-breed turned his back and opened a box of some sort.

The soldiers grabbed him and dragged him forward, while he struggled hard to avoid what he already knew was inevitable. When Scorpius turned back to face him, holding that monstrous contraption that had implanted the chip in his head the first time, his heart crumbled.

"No, not that," he rasped and upped his resistance. The soldiers holding him forced him onto the floor. "No, get off me. Get the hell off me," he pressed out, struggling against the hold they had on him. "Please, don't do this to me. Not again."

***

Scorpius had all the trouble he could handle holding the elusive Human down. The soldiers were a great help, but John's unwillingness to hold still made the procedure a bit precarious. Even so, Scorpius had realized the futility in engaging in conversation with him until the chip was in place.

To facilitate this, he grabbed a hold of John's neck, forcing the man to stop moving his head. It did not stop him from trying to break free, though. "NO!" he yelled, his voice breaking.

The fear, the downright terror, rolled off him in waves, and there was a part of Scorpius that briefly hesitated. He had grown rather fond of John Crichton over the cycles and was a little loathe to have to force him into submission like this, but the protection of the Sebacean people as a whole came first. The science, that so fascinated Scorpius, came second. John's state of mind took an unfortunate third place.

"Hold still now," Scorpius said in what he hoped was a calming manner. It did little good, though, because John screamed when the stiletto slid into the base of his skull and deposited the new chip there.

Scorpius nodded to the soldiers that they could let go, and then he himself released his rather harsh grip on John's neck.

John almost instantly got up on his hands and knees and reached up to touch the injection site. He started shaking his head while he muttered under his breath. "No, no, no," he kept repeating while fingering the bump on the back of his neck.

Scorpius watched him with curiosity. He had perfected the chip design since the last time and was quite willing to bet that it would take effect much faster than the last one had. Actually, he expected it to kick in almost instantaneously.

John climbed back to his feet a little unsteadily while he kept shaking his head as if trying to dislodge something. He stopped worrying the injection site and waved a hand aggressively over his ear. "No, go away. Leave me alone. Shut up," he snapped.

Scorpius smiled. It was obvious that the new clone had already managed to establish its presence and would shortly be controlling John's actions whenever it became necessary. "Now, John, shall we …" he started, but John cut him off by swirling around.

"NO! You do not get to talk to me. Shut up. Leave me the frell alone," he raged. He was fighting the clone, his expression twisted and pained.

Braca glanced at Scorpius, a somewhat concerned expression on his face, but Scorpius raised a hand, warding him off. "No need for concern, Lieutenant. John just needs to get used to the sensation," he said.

Braca nodded and took a step back.

His words drew a pained chuckle devoid of any humor from John, who seemed set on shutting out the clone's whispers by covering one ear. "No, no," he continued on, shifting restlessly around, evidently searching for something that would stop the voice in his head. "Don't do this to me. Please, god, don't …" he rasped, took a hesitant step forward and crashed to his knees.

"There, there, John. If you will just cease your resistance, the clone will stop talking. As long as you do as you're told, it will not bother you," Scorpius said and took a step forward. There was that odd urge to comfort the other man, to give him some hope. It was a trite reaction, he knew, but he felt he had to try anyway.

At his approach, John reared backward, lost his balance and landed on his right side, then dragged himself backward until he hit the wall. "No, you stay the frell away from me, you cadaverous son of a bitch," he spat, his voice breaking, tears cruised down his face. "I can't do this again," he sobbed. "Please, god, no, I can't …"

With a nod to Braca and his men, he dismissed them without a word, and they left instantly. The microt the door had shut behind them, Scorpius settled down on a chair at the far end of the room and waited for John to calm down.

It took some time, but eventually, his near hysteria subsided, and he just sat there, his back against the wall, his eyes on nothing. He was still shaking, though, and Scorpius briefly wondered if the chip had caused some damage. It shouldn't have, but it was always so hard to tell when something wasn't surgically implanted.

"Are you calmer now?" Scorpius asked. He remained where he was since his closeness obviously upset John at the moment.

"Why?" John asked, his voice hoarse. He didn't look at Scorpius, continued to stare at a point on the wall for another few microts, then finally shifted his attention to where Scorpius sat, but still avoided eye contact.

"I already told you, John," Scorpius said in a reasonable tone of voice. "I am dependent on your cooperation, and since you are not willing to give it to me, I am forced to compel you to help me."

John snorted with hysterical laughter, which ended in a bout of coughing. "Help you?" he finally managed to ask. "You want to shaft the universe and you still need my help to do it?"

"I will always need your help, John," Scorpius assured him. "Had you offered your help willingly, none of this would have been necessary." That said, he rose, causing John to attempt to pull backward although there was nowhere left to go. "You have been through enough today. We shall start our work together when the daycycle begins."

He comm'ed the guards to take John to a cell, which would be his home for the foreseeable future.

***

**The cell**

The guards dropped him unceremoniously on the floor just inside the door and left him alone. He made no attempt to get up, had so far refused every shred of cooperation he could muster, and it took him a good long while before he finally convinced himself that lying around on the floor did him no good.

" _Betrayal. Soft. Pathetic,_ " the clone whispered in his ear.

"Shut up," he rasped, got up on his hands and knees and crawled over to the mat. "Leave me alone."

" _Cooperate. Don't be pathetic. Open up. Let me in._ "

He slammed his right hand against his right ear, the impact hard enough to hurt. "SHUT UP!" he yelled, his voice breaking. "Stop it! Please, stop." He collapsed onto the mat, so worn out and devastated, he could barely keep it together.

The thought alone that he would never again be alone in his head, that he would have to settle for this wraith yet again, and namely one that had previously driven him insane and had forced him to kill Aeryn, just overstepped every damned line in the sand. He couldn't handle it, not again. The terror of what this would do to him, would make him do, was enough to threaten his sanity only hours after the implant had been deposited in his head.

" _She's dead. Your fault. You killed them all._ "

He curled up on the mat, wrapped his arms over his head and tried to push the mind-molesting spirit away, but he couldn't. This wasn't Harvey. This was so much worse than the first clone. This one wasn't hiding, wasn't trying to hide. It was torturing him constantly, whispering untruths, telling him he had killed his friends, the love of his life, and he couldn't deal with it.

It brought him to tears. "Please," he sobbed. No amount of begging would get him anything, but his nerves were already so frayed, he just couldn't find that spark of hope that he would somehow make it through this one alive and sane. He felt half mad already, and some small part of his subconscious mind was fully aware that he had never completely gotten over the first time this had happened, that the fear of being overtaken by another wraith had been constantly murmuring around in the back of his head ever since.

This wraith wasn't yet strong enough to take over his mind, to force him into submission, but it was strong enough to drive him bonkers with its incessant whispering. And he couldn't get away from it, couldn't block it out, couldn't force it to shut up.

***

**Sometime later**

The chip gave him no rest. Any attempt at sleep was constantly disrupted by the whispering in his head, the reassurance that his friends were all gone, that nobody would come for him, that he had caused their deaths by being stubborn, that he should open up and work with Scorpius, and it left him teetering on the edge of the abyss.

This abyss had teeth and claws and if he fell in, it would tear him apart. He would cease to exist, and all that he was, and all that he could be, would be gone for good. But the survival instinct was too strong in him. He couldn't give in. Instead he fought, and it cost him dearly.

He had no idea how long he'd been on the carrier. The times he was awake all melted together. He spent hours in the lab, sitting on a stool, staring at the damned data Scorpy had dug out of his brain, and couldn't focus on it.

He refused to eat, drank only sparingly, and could feel his mind fracturing a little at a time. The neural chip was killing him, but it was doing it slowly, and Scorpius had no compassion. He was allowed some downtime when they dragged him back to his cell after a fruitless day of staring at data he refused to understand, but he had no way of telling time and so didn't know how long he was left to his own devices in that soulless cell.

When the day came when the guards had to drag him to the lab, and he could barely remain on the stool, Scorpius began to catch on to the fact that he wasn't doing so well.

"John," he said and stepped up beside him. "You are not well."

He snorted, bracing himself against the edge of the table with both hands to keep from keeling over. "What gave it away?" he rasped.

"Officer Teague tells me you haven't been eating," Scorpius said and grabbed his upper arm when it looked like he might fall off the chair any second now.

"Let go of me," John snapped and weakly tried to yank his arm out of Scorpy's grip. He didn't have any strength left, though, and Scorpy's grip was almost painfully hard.

"You have to eat, John. You have to keep your strength up," the half-breed insisted, a note of real concern in his voice.

"For what?" John rasped and again tried to dislodge his arm from Scorpy's hand. "Got nothing left to live for."

"Regardless, I need the wormhole technology and you need to focus on the work. You cannot do that if you starve yourself."

"Frell you," John mumbled. He was fading fast, wondered if he was passing out or dying for a moment, and then dropped into darkness.

***

Scorpius only barely prevented John from falling off the stool when he passed out. "Frell," he growled, hauled him off the stool and loaded him over one shoulder. In cases like this, there was only one course of action.

He carried the unconscious man to the med unit and dropped him unceremoniously on the floor in front of one of the medics. "He has not been eating or drinking properly for almost a weeken. Make sure he regains his composure and com me the microt he is awake. I will need to have a serious word with him."

The medic looked a little perplexed, but nodded her head. "At once, sir," she agreed and waved a few others over to help her get her new patient off the floor.

Instead of leaving instantly, Scorpius stepped back and watched them work. He was keenly curious about what actions they would take, and he was a little concerned about how they would handle someone like Crichton.

The medic glanced in his direction, obviously either annoyed or concerned about him lingering, but that did not stop her efficiency.

Within microts, they had stripped John and ran him through the scanner to ascertain what was wrong with him. The medics made fairly few comments during this process. There were no comments about him being different, which made Scorpius wonder if they simply did not notice, because the difference was so small, or they were simply trained to ignore such things.

"Severe dehydration, sleep deprived, muscle dystrophy is setting in," one of the medics started listing and shook his head. "Let's get him hooked up to a nutrition drip."

They moved him from the scanner to a bed, hooked him up to various drop lines, and then two of the medics left while the one Scorpius had addressed remained.

"You may want to tie him down," Scorpius suggested. "He can be a bit … volatile. He is also a prisoner."

The medic nodded once and added restraints to her patient.

"So, simply fatigue and not enough to eat, was it?" he asked and took a step closer to the bed.

"Scorpius, it is not my business to tell you how to run this command carrier, but if you insist on starving your prisoners, I do not want to know about it," she said, her tone stern.

"Oh, I had nothing to do with this. He elected to avoid eating all on his own," Scorpius said, not taking offence. Medics were a different breed than the soldiers, and the med unit was under the head medics authority.

"Whatever his reasons, if he continues like this, he will die. And quickly," she said.

"Are you in charge of the med unit?" Scorpius asked.

"No, I am not. Head medic Joodal was unfortunately killed by a rabid soldier a little over a weeken ago. We are awaiting his replacement from Peacekeeper High Command any day now."

"Ah yes, I recall reading that report," Scorpius said and tutted. "Such a shame. He was a talented medic, if I recall correctly."

"He was," the medic agreed.

"Anyway, com me when he wakes up. I need to dissuade him from continuing this nonsense," Scorpius said and left the med unit again.

***

**The med unit**

John woke up because the clone was chastising him. He tried to move his hand to lash out at that voice, but realized instantly that he was immobilized. He also realized instantly that he felt better physically than he had in a while, and that worried him.

"What?" he rasped and tried to sit up, but the restraints kept him horizontal. "No," he muttered. He blinked furiously a few times to clear his eyes and noted the lines going into his arms.

"Calm down. You're in the med unit, on a nutrition drip, because you haven't been eating."

He focused on the door of this glass cage he was in and squinted a little at the somewhat blurry outline of a woman. "Who are you?" he rasped, but instantly lost interest in who she might be, because the drip was undermining his attempt to get away from this madness. "No, I can't …" he rasped and tried to move his arm to maybe dislodge the lines.

"If you don't calm down, I will sedate you," the medic said sternly.

"You will do no such thing," a familiar voice interrupted. "I need to have a word with him now that he is awake, and I can't very well do that if he is sedated, now can I?"

Being tied down as well as encumbered by the neural chip while in the company of Scorpius raised John's flight-instinct to new heights, and he began to struggle against the restraints in earnest.

The medic glanced from Scorpius to John and back again, then shrugged and left.

Scorpius stepped up to the bed and regarded him calmly while he kept struggling. "There really is no need for all this, John. If you would just relent and help me crack the wormhole technology, none of this would be necessary. I would even be inclined to give you a certain level of freedom if you were to cooperate. Why are you making this so difficult?"

He could barely control his breathing, let alone his galloping heart, and there was that little part of him that wished he'd get a heart attack and just die already, because this was intolerable.

Scorpius reached out to place a hand on his brow, but he managed to pull his head out of the way. "Don't touch me," he pressed out through clenched teeth. "Get off my frelling case."

Scorpius dropped his hand, his expression not boding well. "If you will not eat on your own, John, I will have you force-fed. You are making your own situation intolerable here. You could have it very easy, but instead you choose to be obstinate. And look what that gets you."

John turned his face away, unwilling to look at Scorpius any longer. "Leave me alone," he rasped.

" _Listen to him. Obey him. You are in no position to fight this, John,_ " the clone whispered in his head.

He closed his eyes and tried again to force that damned wraith into a locked room, but as long as there was a chip controlling it, he had no strength to deal with it. He couldn't push the clone away, couldn't make it stop torturing him.

"I will let you rest for a day, John. But then you will have to work. Do not force me to make this any more uncomfortable for you than it already is," Scorpius said. He lingered for a moment longer, then sighed and left.

Only after the room had fallen silent, and he could no longer hear Scorpy's footsteps, did he glance back toward the door. How could his situation get any worse than this? Sure, Scorpy could stuff him back into the Aurora chair, but John assumed that the chair had no practical implementation here, because there was nothing more for Scorpius to dig out of his head. He needed his cooperation, needed him to willingly open up to the technology, and it was beginning to dawn on him, that he had a trump card on his hands here.

What he could do with it was another matter, of course. He figured Scorpius could torture him into submission, make him hurt so bad he would give in and work for the bastard just to get away from the pain. But he also figured, that Scorpius wouldn't hurt him too badly, mainly because that would prevent him from working. So, what could he possibly mean, when he said he could make it more uncomfortable than it already was? What was worse than almost driving him insane with that damned chip in his head?

It raised his anxiety level another notch and brought tears to his eyes. He had never in his life felt so utterly alone and abandoned as he did right now.

***


	3. Chapter 3

The days melted into each other in a continuous long string of misery. After the second force-feeding, he decided to pretend to play ball, mainly to avoid a repetition of that degrading treatment. It was one of the very few things he felt he could still control.

To his immediate surprise, Scorpius stopped hounding him after a bit and the clone remained silent as long as he tried to do something useful. He did manage to unlock a few of the sequences, but what he unlocked was useless and made no sense if not seen in the bigger picture.

Scorpius lost his patience a few times, and every time the half-breed got anywhere near him, he flinched. He couldn't help it. He ate little, but enough to satisfy the medics. It did little to keep his stamina up, though. He was always tired and the depression was taking its toll, because he was sure now that none of the others had survived.

Nobody would come for him, and if he couldn't find a way to make Scorpy kill him, he had to figure another way out of this predicament. Not eating didn't do it, because they would simply force him to eat. He had no access to anything useful, there was no way he could injure himself enough to make it fatal, and the soldiers surrounding him were all too scared of Scorpius to attack him. He knew they wanted to, and he tried on occasion to rile them up enough to shoot him, but they didn't bite.

He bid his time, took it slow, kept his mind blank most of the time. It did nothing for the fear, though. The fear was there always, eating away at him, making him jump at shadows. But his determination to end this rose.

He once again sat on that stool and stared at the data, trying to decipher some of it so Scorpy would leave him the hell alone, but he couldn't concentrate. He was nervous, the clone was whispering in his ear because it sensed that he was up to something, and the longer it took for the opportunity to present itself, the more anxious he got.

"What is your progress, John?" Scorpius stepped closer, his attention on the screen rather than on John.

"Back off, Scorp. I'm going as fast as I can," he growled, barely able to keep his voice steady.

"You really must apply yourself to this, John," Scorpius said and put a hand on his shoulder.

John had developed a touch phobia, which meant that any time Scorpius tried to make physical contact with him, he freaked out. His instant response to that touch was to nearly fall off the stool and stumble backward a few steps before he caught himself. "Keep your damned hands off me, Scorpy," he snapped.

Scorpius turned and eyed him disapprovingly, then took a step forward, which sent John reeling backward another few steps.

This brought him in contact with Braca. The sense of another person this close made him sidestep the man, swirl around and make a grab for his pulse pistol. And to his immediate surprise, it worked. Braca didn't see it coming and a second later, John had the pulse pistol aimed at Scorpius.

"Back off! Both of you!" he snapped and stumbled backward until he bumped into the wall. "Stay the hell away from me!"

Scorpius inclined his head a little while never losing eye contact and the whispering in his head rose. "Be reasonable, John," the half-breed said and raised both hands.

Braca, that little twit, stood there and looked like a lost sheep, not sure what to do, and it made John chuckle helplessly. "Reasonable?" he spat and laughed. He could only imagine how crazy he sounded right now. "Frell you! I'm through being reasonable."

The awareness that threatening Scorpius brought him nothing, and that aiming the pulse pistol at Braca would mean nothing to Scorpius, made him jitter. He had a weapon, but not the upper hand.

"Put the gun down, John. You know this is not doing you any good," Scorpius said, his tone calm and reasonable.

John's desperation rose exponentially, and he could really only see one way out now. When Scorpius took a step forward, he pressed the pulse pistol against the underside of his own chin instead. "Stay back!" he hissed, tears rising in his eyes.

For a brief moment, the half-breed looked a little worried. But then the whispering in John's head rose to a crescendo, and the hand holding the pulse pistol started to shiver strongly. He tried to pull the trigger, tried so hard that it hurt him physically, but the clone wouldn't let him. It was growing stronger, getting better at controlling his actions.

Finally, with a hysterical sob, his hand moved the pulse pistol away from his chin despite his best effort to keep it there, and Braca ripped it out of his hand after Scorpius gave him a nod to do so. Deprived of his only chance of stopping this nightmare he was stuck in, he slid down the wall and buried his face against his knees.

"That was rather rash, John," Scorpius said. "You could have injured yourself."

He almost laughed at that. Almost.

"I can't have that happening again, John. Next time, you might succeed," Scorpius continued. Somewhere to his right, a door opened. "Prepare him for insertion," the half-breed said and hands grabbed him, pulling him up on his feet. "I really wanted to avoid this, John, but you leave me no choice."

Terror, he realized, came in stages, and he was getting close to the next level when they hauled him away. Despite the clone reprimanding him for what he had almost managed to do, he fought the soldiers every step of the way.

They dragged him into what looked like an operating theater. There were four of them and Braca had accompanied them as well. The overzealous lieutenant looked rather smug, when he waved toward the table in the center of the room. It was formed like a cross and had a hole in the top end. "Strap him in. Scorpius will be here in a microt," he said.

He struggled, he even managed to slam an elbow into the face of one of the soldiers, but it did him no good. They still managed to deposit him on the table, face down, and strap him down despite his best efforts to prevent it.

"Gag him," someone said in a bored tone of voice.

He turned his head to see a tall medic clad in black with a cold look in his eyes step up to the table.

"I really don't want to have to listen to all that screaming," the medic said.

The soldiers complied, then locked his head down by shoving his face into the hole and pulling a strap over the back of his head. His arms were stretched out to the sides, locked down by several straps that made it near impossible for him to even twitch.

"Everything is ready," the medic said.

"One moment." Scorpius had obviously arrived and the medic stepped aside to allow him access to John. When Scorpius placed a hand on his back, he tried to shrug it off, tried to get away from the offensiveness of that touch, but he could barely move a muscle. "I do regret having to do this to you, John. If you had only agreed to cooperate …" He sighed and stepped back. "Inform me the microt the insertion is over. And you better make certain he survives the procedure."

"He'll survive," the medic said indifferently. "The majority of them do."

Unable to move, and unable to voice his fears or demand explanations, he felt a nauseating type of vertigo crawl up on him. He tried to gain some kind of leverage, that would give him the opportunity of escaping whatever horrors were in store, but no matter how much he tried, the straps holding him down didn't give. They merely cut into his skin, causing pain.

The medic cut through the back of his t-shirt, pulling it away from his back. Something metallic cold touched the small of his back and then pressed down hard enough for him to grunt with restrained pain.

"How long will this take?" Braca asked somewhere behind him.

"About an arn, give or take," the medic replied. "Ready for insertion," he added.

At first, he felt nothing other than metal pressing down. Then he felt the sting, like a handful of needles being pushed through his skin. He was tense already, strained to the breaking point, and the fear of this procedure, whatever it was, was stronger than the pain, which was at first was manageable. He'd had worse.

But then it began to burn. At first it was a tingling sensation, that quickly evolved into searing pain. It felt like they were pumping acid under his skin and when it started spreading, he started screaming into the gag.

It spread outwards over his back in all directions, down his legs, along his arms, up over his scalp. He could feel it in his fingers, his toes, affecting every single muscle in his entire body, and when it hit his heart, he almost passed out. His breathing was erratic, in part from trying to scream and in part from the fact that whatever this crap was, it was also attacking his lungs, and the pain was of such a nature that he felt nauseous.

"Frell! Get the gag off him. He'll suffocate," he heard Braca shout somewhere far away.

The medic just barely managed to remove the gag, before he upchucked what little he'd eaten this day.

The pain ate through him like acid, making him scream and cough at the same time, the burn of the stomach acid in his throat nothing compared to the burn of the insertion. "Aw god, please stop this," he begged in a feeble voice. He barely had any air left to voice his agony and wished desperately he could pass out.

But he didn't. After what felt like forever, the pain began to subside. It went from the acid burn under his skin to an uncomfortable prickling sensation. He had the toughest time breathing and still felt sick to his stomach.

The pressure on his back disappeared and someone removed the straps. "He'll need to recuperate for the rest of the daycycle. He should be ready to work again tomorrow," the medic said.

The soldiers grabbed him and he yelped breathlessly, because it hurt like hell when they touched him. True to form, though, they didn't give a damn and dragged him back to his cell, where they dropped him on the floor and left him there.

For a long time, he just lay there, trying to breathe properly, trying to make his heart settle down just a little bit. He carefully tried to flex his jaw, which hurt. Blinking didn't, nor did he feel anything when he moved his tongue. But every other muscle in his body felt like it had been shredded.

He swallowed convulsively and moved his head a little, which caused him to whimper. He couldn't even move his fingers without wanting to throw up from the pain, so he decided to just remain where he was for now and let whatever they had done to him settle down enough, that he could move of his own volition again.

Little did he know that he was in for a very nasty surprise.

***

**The following daycycle**

Scorpius shifted through some of the flimsies lying on the worktable, while the data John had so far dealt with scrolled over the screen in front of him. It was very evident, that the human had made little progress, and it annoyed him.

He intended to use this latest weapon in his arsenal to get John to comply, but there was that underlying sense, that it was much harder than he thought. By depriving him of any hope of a rescue, by trying to coerce him to open up to the knowledge if he risked losing his sanity if he refused, Scorpius had hoped that he would finally relent and do what needed to be done. But his fear kept it all out of reach, and it made Scorpius wonder what else he could do to get the man to understand the urgency of this endeavor.

Before he could delve deeper into that line of thought, the door to the lab opened. Scorpius turned, expecting to see John up and moving, but instead the guards he had sent to pick John up stepped in alone.

"Where is he?" he asked, instant concern flaring up in him. If the treatment had killed John, he was going to personally space that medic.

"Unresponsive, sir," one of the guards said. "We took him to the med unit. According to surveillance, he has been unresponsive since he was returned to his cell yesterday. Lieutenant Braca thought it best to get him some medical care at once."

For a moment, his temper flared, but he pushed it back down and nodded. "Good thinking," he said and dismissed the guards, then headed toward the med unit at once.

It took little for him to locate John. The man was obviously awake.

"No, stop touching me. Please. Stop!"

Scorpius stopped in the doorway and watched for a moment while the medics, three of them, tended to John, who wasn't exactly moving much, but his pain was very evident in his energy signature. "What seems to be the matter?" he asked and stepped inside.

One of the medics gave him an almost exasperated look. "The frelling insertion has caused severe damage," she said. They were fighting to strap John down, and it appeared that every time they even touched him, he cried out in pain. "He is burning up. Full-on infection. Severe pain. We can barely touch him."

Scorpius stopped at the foot of the bed and regarded his charge for a moment. The energy signature gave him all the answers he needed, telling him the medics were right in their assumption, and it made him wonder what had gone wrong. Of course, he had never before used insertion on anyone, but had been assured by the medic who had performed the procedure, that it was generally successful.

"Do what you can to stabilize him. And send medic Daltar to my quarters as soon as possible," Scorpius said, started to turn away, but then paused and looked back to John. "I am sorry about this, John. Had I known it would turn out this way, I would have chosen other avenues to explore," he said, then left.

On his way to his quarters, he ran into Braca, who looked a little nervous. "Sir," he said and stood at attention. "I assume you have been informed about Crichton's condition?"

"I have. I commend you on your ingenuity. Many would have asked for my orders first before making certain that John got the help he needed."

Braca nodded. "Thank you, sir," he said. "The new head medic has arrived. Her file is loaded on your station. Shall I send her to your quarters?"

"But of course," Scorpius said and continued onward to welcome the newest member of his staff, and to end another's career.

He had the opportunity to scan through the new head medic's file before she turned up, and he was curious about her already. While her file deemed her very competent, a natural leader, she also had a few stains on her file, and he was curious about whether she would reveal them openly or try to hide them from him.

A guard led her in, saluted once and strode out again. Scorpius regarded her for a moment, taking in everything about her. She was tall, slender yet powerfully built, and had, unlike other Sebaceans, a shock of red curly hair, that was drawn back into a loose braid. Her eyes were very green. "Head medic Kendar Tavalis," he said when she stopped in front of his desk. He noted that she met his eyes dead on and there was no flicker of insecurity in her. "Welcome to my command carrier."

"Thank you, Scorpius," she said. Her voice was deep for a female, a bit on the rusty side.

"You have been reassigned here by High Command, I see," he said and glanced at his screen briefly.

"Yes, sir, I have," she agreed. She did not stand at attention, but then most medics never did. They considered themselves above that nonsense, since they were not soldiers.

"You come highly recommended, head medic Tavalis. Quite an impressive file," he continued and met her eyes again. "It makes me wonder what you may have done to earn a reassignment to my command carrier." Her response to this would give him a good idea of whether he could trust her or not. If she lied, if she claimed to have asked for the reassignment, as so many others might have, he would know she was untrustworthy.

Her eyes narrowed a little at his words. "I made a judgement call that High Command did not approve of," she said. "I chose to save one life ahead of another."

Scorpius leaned back on his chair. "How so?"

She smiled lightly, showing him clearly that she had no regrets about her decision. "It was a question of trying to save a Peacekeeper soldier or an ambassador from a newly discovered outer rim colony. The solider was beyond saving, so I chose to save the ambassador instead. Had I chosen the soldier first, I would have lost them both. And I hate to lose patients."

This made Scorpius smile in turn. She was being truthful, and obviously had no problems with aliens, which in his book was a very good start indeed. "Well, head medic Tavalis, rest assured that you will not be punished for such decisions here."

She nodded once in acceptance. "I should go familiarize myself with my new station," she said.

"Oh, indeed. And, should you encounter any problems … with your staff or your patients, feel free to report directly to me," Scorpius said and dismissed her.

***

**The med unit**

John was literally at the end of his rope. He was hanging on by his fingernails and could feel his grasp on any semblance of sanity slipping away from him. After the treatment the day before, he had passed out on the floor of his cell, only to awaken when the guards came to pick him up again, burning up with fever, every inch of his body aching like the worst case of muscle fatigue he had ever experienced.

The guards had demanded he get up, but he couldn't even turn his head without causing himself pain. When they grabbed him to haul him to his feet, they had nearly reduced him to tears, it hurt that bad.

He had realized right there and then that he had a fever because he had some type of rampant infection, that seemed to be everywhere at once.

One of the goons had then called Braca, who had told them to take him straight to the med unit, where the medics, those insensitive bastards, had taken over the maltreatment of him by strapping him to the bed.

The fever was high enough to start hallucinations, and in combination with the constantly whispering wraith in his head and the raging pain that seemed to be everywhere, he figured it was only a matter of hours before his mind cracked. He couldn't handle more pain, was completely depleted.

After discussing something at the other end of the room, they came back, those medics, and stuffed him into some sort of machine. The air inside was stuffy, it was hot and the inside of the tube they had put him in was lit by extremely strong light. Since he was tied down, he couldn't even move his arm to block his face, and he knew he would have despite the pain, because the light was literally burning his eyes even through closed lids.

Fortunately, the light dimmed down after a bit, but the heat was intolerable and the air tasted bad. The not knowing what they were doing to him was bad, the heat was making him drowsy though, and it didn't take long before he passed out again.

After a period of time he had no sense of, he was jostled awake by a claxon of some kind, only to realize that he was no longer in that damned tube. The air was cool, breathable, and he noted, somewhat absentmindedly, that the pain had ebbed away to an annoying itch he couldn't scratch.

Someone patted his face rather harshly, then shone light into his eyes. "Aw, stop," he rasped and tried to turn his head away, but that someone had grabbed a hold of his chin.

"He's alive," a voice said. "Temperature is down, although not optimum. Get him on some fluids and nutrition until he wakes up completely."

He felt the stabbing pain in his arm where they hooked up the lines while he struggled to focus, to get his mind to cooperate, so he could understand what the hell was going on. But then he gave up again and slipped back into unconsciousness, because the darkness and silence there beckoned him.

***

The next time he woke up, he was alone, tied to a bed in the med unit, and so fatigued that he could barely convince himself to try and move.

It took him a moment to register that even though the room was empty of others, the outside corridor was not. Scorpius stood in the door opening and watched him, and it sent a shudder of fear through him. Having to fight against the neural clone all the time was one thing, but being tied down like this, completely helpless, cranked up the fear factor to a higher setting.

"At last," Scorpius said, broke away from the doorframe he had been leaning against, and stepped up to the side of the bed. "You had me worried there, John."

He swallowed and flexed his jaw against this odd, tired feeling that permeated every fiber of his being. "What the hell … did you do … to me now?" he muttered.

"A simple precaution. Had I known it would affect you like this, I would have found other means to ensure your cooperation," the half-breed said.

John really hated the sound of that. It made his skin crawl to think that the medic's treatment had caused this. It would be so much worse if he couldn't move properly. And what if it didn't go away? What if this was permanent?

Scorpius laid a hand lightly on his arm, which again caused him to jerk, to try and get away from the half-breed's touch, but the restraints and this new malaise locked him in place. "Alas, there is nothing to be done about it now. I will let you rest until tomorrow. But then I must insist that you return to your work … which has been sorely inadequate so far."

There was an underlying threat in Scorpius' tone that sent a shudder through him. He could think of nothing to say to that, and after a moment of silence between them, Scorpius hissed, turned away and left him alone again.

He balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes, hoping, wishing, even praying, that someone would come to his damned rescue or kill him. Either was fine for him right now. He just couldn't take this treatment anymore. The pain, the constant fear, had worn him thin. He couldn't focus on doing anything, least of all work on those damned wormhole equations.

"Oh god, please. Somebody help me," he whispered and sent a pleading look up at the ceiling. "Somebody please help me."

***

**A few solardays later**

Head medic Kendar Tavalis had taken a few days to acclimatize herself to her new surroundings, and was slowly getting to know the workings of the med unit along with the surrounding areas.

On her way to midday meal, she followed the main corridor toward the officer's lounge, but trailed to a stop when she spotted a male standing by one of the walls. He looked unhealthy, skinny, pale, and the way he leaned against the wall, his eyes on nothing, made her worry what ailment he may have contracted.

In the capacity of her station, she stepped up to him. "Are you not well?" she asked him, expecting a brush-off at least.

He swallowed and briefly glanced at her, but said nothing. His breathing was labored, and now that she was closer, she could see that he was shivering constantly, and that he seemed to have trouble remaining on his feet.

"Do you have a name?" she asked.

His expression twisted painfully and he straightened up, his jaw clicking shut, and for a microt he met her eyes. Then he turned around and walked slowly and stiffly across the corridor and vanished into one of the labs.

Tavalis stared at the door for a microt, then continued on her way to the officer's lounge. If she encountered him again, she would have to investigate what was wrong with him. She couldn't have a contagion loose on this ship without knowing what it was.

In the officer's lounge, she got something to eat and settled down in the area the medics used, but close enough to where the Peacekeeper officers were all having midday meal together.

Lieutenant Braca was sitting among a few other officers not too far from her and she listened in on the conversation. It was her firm belief that she learned most about a new crew by listening to idle chatter.

"Has he managed to get anything out of that frelling alien yet?" one of the other officers asked Braca.

"Not as of yet. Scorpius is getting frustrated with his lack of progress," Braca said and leaned back on his chair. "Honestly I do not understand what his preoccupation is with Crichton. The man obviously knows nothing of interest to us." He shook his head. "No matter. Scorpius is in charge. And we obey."

The other officer sneered. "I still find it suspect that High Command would allow an abomination like Scorpius to take charge of a command carrier," he said.

Braca gave him a dark look. "Are you trying to get court-marshaled? Do not speak of such things to me again," he growled.

Tavalis frowned lightly. Perhaps the male she had encountered in the corridor was Crichton? She would have to investigate further.

***

**The lab**

It had taken John very little time to understand that the injection - or insertion as the medic had called it - controlled his body now. It pretty much nullified any actions he might be able to take. Several times now, since he had left the med unit and returned 'to work', as Scorpius called it, he had been in a situation where his body had betrayed him.

He had managed to escape the damned lab when Scorpius and his henchmen had left him alone for unknown reasons, but he had made it no further than across the corridor before his feet had become too heavy to lift. His whole body had stopped responding, and he had spent a brief time just leaning against the wall.

Some female had approached him, but he didn't trust anyone, didn't want to talk to anyone, and had made a valiant attempt to ignore her. It hadn't worked, though, but then this crap they had injected him with, had jumped into action, and he had returned to the lab, leaving her standing there with a frown furrowing her brow.

Only when he had settled down on the chair again had the influence stopped, and he had almost collapsed because he had put everything he had into resisting it. Everything he had didn't amount to much anymore, though.

"Are you not working again, John?"

He hadn't heard the door open, hadn't heard Scorpy come in, and when the half-breed both spoke to him and put a hand on his shoulder, he freaked out. This caused a rather ungraceful fall off the stool, but he didn't stop there. He hauled himself backward as fast as his weakened muscles allowed for until he collided with the wall at the end of the work table and could go no further.

"For pity's sake, John. I will not harm you further if you comply. How many times must I tell you this?" Scorpius said, his tone one of exasperation.

"Don't … touch me," he pressed out, trying to catch his breath again. Instead his vague resolve to maybe try and keep it together just a little bit dissolved. "Why … can't you … just let me … die?" he rasped, tears rising in his eyes.

"Because I need your expertise. As I have already told you. On several occasions," Scorpius said and hunkered down to watch him. "You must stop this nonsense. I have no wish to hurt you, John, but you leave me little choice. If you will not participate willingly, I have to force you."

John wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. Moving had become a real problem for him. There wasn't any pain anymore, but the muscle fatigue lingered, making speaking and moving very difficult. "What the hell … did you … do to me," he whispered. "I can't … function."

Scorpius regarded him for a moment, then rose again and picked up something he had put down on the worktable. "This," he said and turned the little box so John could see it, "is a control box. For the neuro cords."

John stared at the little black box for a moment. "Neuro … cords?" Even though he still didn't know what it was, it sent a shudder of fear through him.

"Yes, John. A simple precaution that should have caused no permanent damage if all had gone well," Scorpius said and looked down at the box himself. He almost gingerly pressed his thumb down on it.

And John felt the immediate effect. He got back on his feet despite every effort he made to stop himself from moving. Once he was upright, his arms dangling uselessly down his sides, Scorpius released the pressure on the box and he regained mobility again, which made him stumble back against the wall. "What the frell … are neuro cords?"

"Essentially, neuro cords are a webbing, that is injected into the muscular tissue of an individual such as yourself. These cords are attached to a small control node, which now resides under your skin on the small of your back. This box," Scorpius explained and again held the box up, "controls your every move if I so choose."

John's eyes were on the box, and despite the clone's incessant whispering in his head, he felt anger rise in him. It was an impotent kind of anger, though, because he wouldn't be able to act it out. "You … bastard," he pressed out, curling his near useless hands into fists. "You couldn't just … stop at the clone … could you?" He pushed away from the wall and took a staggering step forward. "You had to … take away … everything … didn't you?"

The half-breed regarded him darkly for a moment. "You left me with no other choice, John," he said.

The anger surged like an energy wave. He let out a growl and tried to attack Scorpius, but the half-breed came prepared for every eventuality. He pressed down on the box, and John's forward momentum stopped. His fingers uncurled, his raised arm dropped and he stood ramrod straight, unable to move anything other than his head. "I'm never … giving you … wormholes … you sick bastard," he spat out. The only venom he could use was in his words, but it had no discernable effect on Scorpius other than that it made him angry.

The look in the half-breed's eyes had gone cold and that usually did not bode well. "There's another thing neuro cords are used for, once they're inserted," he growled and bared his teeth in a hiss. "My clone has picked out some interesting thoughts from your mind, John. Especially that you have developed a very strong … shall we say phobia? … when it comes to pain." He raised the box, showing it to John. "Neuro cords are used to punish as well as control."

That said, Scorpius shifted his thumb on the box and John basically felt like he was being shredded from the inside out. To implement the punishment, the cords released their hold on him, but it made no difference. The searing pain that ripped through him, through every damned muscle at once, brought him crashing to his knees. The pain was so intense that he couldn't breathe. He dropped like a log and just lay there, tears leaking from his eyes, while he desperately wished he could pass out.

When the pain finally lessened, he had developed tunnel vision from the lack of oxygen, and he just lay there, panting, shivering, every shred of anger replaced by bone-breaking fear.

Scorpius dropped down on one knee next to him and grabbed his neck, squashing his face down on the floor. "You will give me wormholes, John. If I have to torture you into submission, I will." Then he rose again. "Get back to work. I'd better see some progress soon or you will suffer the consequences."

The angry, sputtering tone he used told John all too clearly that he had managed to push buttons he shouldn't have pushed. And even after the door had closed behind Scorpius, he didn't dare to move; partly out of fear of the pain and partly out of fear that Scorpius would come back and hurt him some more.

***


	4. Chapter 4

**The lab**

It was difficult to be a half Scarran, when you had to work under a time restraint and the one doing the work resisted you. Despite John's fear of him, he continued to resist doing much of anything, and got sassy when Scorpius called him on it.

"I cannot work … with you twisting … my arm," John snarled while rubbing his left arm. In a vain attempt to force him to do more, Scorpius employed the control box more often than he had thought he would, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect on the Human than he had hoped for. "Back off … and leave … me alone."

"We do not have time to play games, John," Scorpius countered heatedly. His head was aching, telling him clearly that his cooling rods needed to be changed, and it frustrated him to no end that John would not see reason.

"Shut up," John snapped with one hand hovering over his right ear. "Stop it! I can't … work like this!"

"You are not working at all. I demand that you give me the technology. Unlock it now or you will suffer," Scorpius snarled. His Scarran side was rearing its ugly head more often now and he knew it was only a matter of time before he lost control. And that could end badly for John.

"With your frelling clone … yacking in my ear … and you pushing ... those frelling buttons … on that frelling box … all the time … you think I'll try harder?" John huffed out a tortured laugh and grabbed his right wrist with his left hand to steady his badly shaking hand.

With all he had learned in his life when it came to self-control, there was nobody better at making it snap than John Crichton, and Scorpius was damned closed to snapping right there and then. "You! Will! Comply!" he snarled and pressed his thumb down on the button on the control box so hard, the box broke.

Apparently, this caused some type of short circuit, because instead of just causing pain, the cords ripped John's left shoulder backward, dislocating it and breaking the bone in one go. With a howl of pain, John dropped to his knees and grabbed his badly twisted arm. Panting from the pain, his teeth clammed together, he tried to pull his arm forward, but the cords were stuck and would not allow it. On the contrary, they appeared to be trying to pull his shoulder further backwards. "Stop," John pressed out. "Please … for the love of god … stop. You're … ripping my arm … off." He could barely force the words out.

This predicament had an oddly calming effect on Scorpius, who nevertheless growled at the remnants of the box, then dropped it on the floor and stepped on it to break it completely. The complete destruction of the box deactivated the cords again and John dropped to the floor with an explosive groan. He curled up on himself, holding onto his now badly mutilated shoulder.

"I will get the medics," Scorpius said, completely calm again. He tapped the com-station on the wall. "Head medic Tavalis. Would you please come to my lab as fast as possible."

" _Right away,_ " came the answer.

Scorpius turned back to face John and briefly took in the spikes in his energy signature that indicated violent pain. "Perhaps next time, you will listen to me," he muttered under his breath.

A few microts later, the door opened and Tavalis stepped in. Her immediate concern was for Scorpius, but he shook his head and waved a hand toward John. "Tend to him. I will check up on his progress later," he said and left the lab.

***

The pain was nauseating. He could barely keep what little he had eaten this day down, when the medic knelt down in front of him. "Let me have a look," she said.

The thought of her touching him, of anyone touching him, almost made him pull back, but the thought of the pain the movement would cause was worse, so he stayed still.

She touched lightly, but even her light touch was enough to nearly send him through the roof. That her hands came way bloody just added to this unmitigated disaster.

She pulled out an injector, pressed it against the side of his neck and sent him into oblivion. The last thing that flitted through his mind was that he was grateful for that small favor.

Unfortunately, he woke up on route to the med unit with a vengeance. He made an instant grab for his left arm, but one of the soldiers escorting the stretcher wacked his hand away, jostling him and causing unnecessary pain. He let out a strangled grunt and tried to shift away from the offensive soldier, which nearly spilled him off the stretcher.

"Keep your frelling hands to yourself, soldier," one of the medics snapped angrily. "We don't need an escort."

"Scorpius insists," the soldier countered indifferently, but pulled back a little.

They rushed him into one of the rooms and moved him none too kindly onto the bed. One of the medics turned up with straps, but the one who had snapped at the soldier backhanded them out of his grip, gave him a warning look and then turned to her patient. "Scan his shoulder," she said to one of the others, clearly establishing herself as the one in charge. "I want to know how bad it is before we set it."

The pain made him dizzy, the clone kept yammering away in his head, and his touch phobia had gone into overdrive. But right now, there was nowhere to go and even if there had been, he wasn't so sure he could move much of his own volition right now. The pain from his mutilated shoulder was just too damned strong.

One of the medics ran a scanner over his shoulder while they all eyed the display and the head medic sneered at what she saw. "Frell," she muttered, then turned her attention to him. It was the first time since he'd arrived on this dump of a carrier that anyone other than Scorpius had bothered looking at him twice. "We have two options. Set it manually, which I would strongly advice against, or use the machine," she said.

He glanced over at the tube. He hated that damned thing, but the thought of any of them having to manipulate his shoulder back into place made him hyperventilate.

"The machine it is," she said as if she had read his mind.

Under her cunning guidance, they placed him on the bed of that claustrophobic tube, strapped him down minimally, and then sealed him inside it. The searing hot lights came on again, but dimmed down almost immediately, and to his immediate relief, a fan started up and circulated cold air over him.

For a good long while, he just lay there and tried to suppress the pain, until it started to ebb away on its own. He blinked sluggishly a few times and then closed his eyes.

***

When he woke up again, he was back on the bed. His shoulder was still sore, but that was nothing compared to what it had been. His left arm was bandaged to his body, keeping it immobile.

"Was that really necessary?"

He heard the head medic's voice and turned his head a little to take in the scene taking place out in the corridor.

"It was a malfunction, not an intentional act." Scorpius sounded put off and John almost felt the urge to warn the woman about the danger she was in.

"Malfunction?" she asked and sighed. "He will need to stay here for the rest of the day."

"Unacceptable. He has fallen behind in his work and must make up for lost time," Scorpius countered, his tone tense.

"That male in there is no condition to do anything other than sleep right now," she said. She had her back to the doorway and John could tell she was tense by the way she held her shoulders.

"As soon as he wakes up, head medic Tavalis, I want him back in that lab," Scorpius said, his tone tolerating no discussions. "If you insist on keeping him here, I will make certain he has injuries you need to deal with."

That said, the half-breed swirled around and stalked away, so angry he was almost fuming.

Tavalis stood still for a moment, then turned around and met his eyes. She did not look surprised that he was awake. She sent another look in the direction Scorpius had disappeared in, then stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"

He stared at her for a moment longer, every single fiber of his body demanding that he keep his trap shut and not talk to anyone, but he was so starved for friendly attention that he couldn't help himself. "Better," he croaked and cleared his throat.

"That's good," she said. "Rest a while longer. I'm afraid you will have to return to work in half an arn. I will be back before then." That said, she opened the door again and left him alone.

He closed his eyes, but the clone was stirring again and it drove him batshit crazy that he couldn't rest without that bastard yammering in his ear all the time. A part of him wished that Scorpy had killed him. At least then all this would be over, and he was beginning to feel that the only way he could get away from all this was by dying.

True to her word, Tavalis returned a bit later. She brought a cup over to the bed and eyed him for a moment. "You look like dren," she stated. "Can you sit up?"

He made a face, but tried nonetheless. With a bit of an effort, he managed to sit up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"I would think you have to be thirsty," she said, picked up the cup and held it out to him.

He reached for the cup, but paused before taking it, because his hand was shivering badly. But he was thirsty, was actually parched, so he grabbed the cup and managed to empty it in two gulps before the cup slipped out of his weakened fingers.

Tavalis caught it and set it aside. "A soldier will be in in a microt to pick you up," she said and stepped back. "Try not to aggravate him into hurting you again. I do not think your body can handle much more abuse."

She did not wait for him to respond, but turned around and walked out of the room. John just watched her go and wondered briefly if she could maybe make Scorpius back off a little. But then he dismissed that idea. Scorpius did what he wanted and he didn't give a shit about anybody's opinion. He had proven that countless times already.

***

**Back in the lab**

With his left arm bandaged to his body, and his resources shot to hell by pain and trauma, it was all he could do to remain on the stool and stare idly at the information on the screen. It made no sense to him at present. He couldn't focus his mind.

The clone kept pushing, whispering about all the atrocities that would be bestowed on him if he didn't get his act together right now, and he was once again overcome with the withering desire to just sit here and stare until Scorpius blew up and killed him.

The half-breed was in the room with him, standing a few steps away, watching him, and it made his skin crawl. He never knew when he would come under attack, or when Scorpy would activate that damned box of his again, and the insecurity made him feel sick to his stomach.

He shifted a little and sighed, wished he could curl up in a corner and sleep, and then flinched when he felt a stab in his stomach. He risked a brief glance over one shoulder, but Scorpius wasn't holding the box, so he figured it was just a reaction to stress. The next stab was stronger, though, and he couldn't help the grunt that escaped him.

"What is the matter?" Scorpius asked, his tone cold. "Another feeble excuse to not work on the equations?"

A third stab was followed by a near cramp in his abdomen and he hunched over to take the pressure off while wrapping his right arm over his stomach. The nausea rose steadily, until there was no other way than to throw up. He turned to his left and brought up the remains of the water the medic had given him. But it didn't lessen the camps, which increased. He felt like his stomach was full of razors, and the next regurgitation brought up blood.

Supporting himself against the edge of the table with his right hand, he stared at the puddle of diluted blood for a second, then threw up a third time. By then, Scorpius was on the horn to the medics again, and he sounded rather frantic.

"Get to my lab. On the double," Scorpius snapped.

Mere moments later, the medics returned with a stretcher in tow, and by that time John had given up all pretense that he could stay upright and had taken a header off the stool. His stomach hurt so bad, he would have screamed if he'd had the air for it.

They returned him to the med unit with Scorpius in tow, and Tavalis took over the second they arrived.

***

Scorpius was angry and frustrated, and also a little bit concerned all mixed into one, and it made him volatile. He watched the medics work on John, who kept regurgitating blood and was fighting them every dench of the way.

"Tavalis," Scorpius snapped. She left her place to one of the other medics and stepped up to him. "If he dies …"

"… it will be your fault," Tavalis said sternly. "You have abused him. And this may very well be the last straw."

Scorpius blinked, a little surprised by her tone, by the recrimination he heard there, and refrained from making any further comment. A part of him knew she was right, which made it all the more intolerable.

She eyed him for a microt longer, then returned to her place at the bed. But it was an uneven fight, and after half an arn, the frantic commotion around the bed died down. Tavalis sighed and let her hands drop, then turned around and met Scorpius' eyes. "Congratulations," she said. "You've killed him."

Some of the other medics looked frightened at her words, and quickly exited the room when Scorpius stepped inside. He paid no attention to Tavalis, but eyed the still form on the bed. There was far too much blood on the floor and the bedding and all over the medics, and the energy signature he had become so familiar with was ebbing away even now.

"What the frell caused this?" he demanded, angry and a little shocked at this outcome.

Tavalis shook her head. "It could be a number of things," she said, her tone tight. He had only to look at her to know that this tightness stemmed from anger. "Whatever it was, it killed him," she added and turned back to the bed. "He almost literally drowned in his own blood."

"Is there any way to preserve his brain?" Scorpius asked, a desperate idea working its way into his mind. But he already knew the answer to that. The neural chip had deactivated and it would only do that if all brain functions has ceased.

"No," Tavalis said and now she just sounded tired. "All brain functions have ceased. The tissue is already breaking down as we speak."

For a long moment, all Scorpius could think of doing was just to stand there and stare at John Crichton. Then he hissed with frustration.

"What do you want me to do with the remains?" Tavalis asked and glanced at him.

He considered it for a moment, not sure what to say. Then he waved a dismissive hand at her. "Do whatever the frell you want. I have no further use for him," he said.

"I know of a research facility that would be thrilled to study the remains. Perhaps they can derive something from his difference," she said. "I can take him there myself. It's only a solarday's flight from here."

Scorpius was in no mood to discuss such matters right now. "Do as you wish, Tavalis. I don't care." That said, he turned and left the med unit behind, angry beyond reason.

***

Kendar Tavalis watched him go for a moment, then turned back to the bed again. She eyed the prone figure thoughtfully, then arched an eyebrow, dug out an injector from her pocket and pressed it against Crichton's neck.

Then she called for the techs to bring a mobile freezer unit. They arrived mere moments later.

"Place the body in the unit and take it to a marauder. I will there in a microt," she said and pocketed the injector again.

The techs went to work. Her request was not unusual, since they were dealing with an alien, and there were many research facilities, that were interested in remains.

Tavalis stripped off her med tech coat and threw it on the bed, then left the med unit to pack a few things, before heading toward the landing bays. There she boarded the marauder and found Lieutenant Braca waiting for her.

"Head medic Tavalis," he said and nodded.

She eyed him for a moment. "Are you coming with me?" she asked.

Braca looked a little surprised at her question. "Uh, no, I was merely going to ask if you needed anyone to accompany you or if you can take this trip on your own. Scorpius is not willing to waste any personnel on this."

Tavalis smiled vaguely. "I am capable of taking the trip on my own. It's not like I'm transporting a prisoner who will try to escape, after all. And I know how to fly a marauder."

Braca nodded again. "That was my thought," he said. "How long will you be away?"

"Two solardays at most," she countered. "The facility I am taking him to is very keen on new material."

"In that case, I will leave you to it," Braca said. "Just keep in mind that Scorpius is not very happy about this outcome."

Her expression tightened. "Neither am I, lieutenant. I hate losing patients."

He took his leave of her and left the marauder. Tavalis dumped her bag on the floor, sealed up the hatch and headed for the cockpit. She was in no particular hurry, and she left on the vector she had given flight control.

She settled back on the pilot's seat once the autopilot took over and watched the display telling her she was still in tracking range of the command carrier. Once that winked off, she let the marauder continue on that vector for another half arn, then switched the autopilot off, reset her destination coordinates, and switched the autopilot back on.

With a sigh, she let her shoulders drop, rose and headed into the cargo hold, where the freezer unit was waiting for her. She opened it up and briefly regarded the body, then hauled him out of the freezer and into one of the crew quarters, where she laid him out on one of the bunks. Then she went to grab her bag, riffled through it, and withdrew a stiletto tool.

She turned his head a little and felt for the bump, found it and inserted the tool to extract the neuro chip, which she then hastily dropped into a vial of acid she had also retrieved from her bag, and watched it dissolve.

"Right," she said, dug out a smaller bag and opened it. "Now, where are you," she muttered and shifted through the various gadgets, until she found the one she was after. "Ah," she said, pressed it against Crichton's neck and injected the purple substance in the transparent vial attached to the injector. "And now all I can do is wait and hope," she told herself, packed her things up again and dumped the bag on another bunk, before heading toward the common area, where the food was stored.

***

**On the marauder**

The first thing he became clearly aware of was that he felt like he had swallowed a wad of dragonfly paper with the business side out. There was a distinctly metallic taste in his mouth, and at first, he couldn't even convince himself to move, let alone open his eyes.

His memory of what had happened prior to him waking up in agony again was sketchy at best. His shoulder injury shone like a beacon on the top of this pile of crap that was his life, but after that it all got a little hazy.

He could remember a stabbing pain in his gut and instinctively slipped his right hand up on his stomach. Now that he thought about it, it did feel a little sore, but not actually painful. Slowly, he pried his eyelids open and focused blearily at the ceiling above him … which was very close. So, the tube again, was it?

He turned his head a little, expecting to see the rounding of the tube, but there was no wall obstructing his view on his left side. He blinked furiously a few times, convinced he was imaging things, but the crew quarters surrounding him didn't go away. "What the hell?" he rasped and flinched when that hurt his throat.

"Ah, you're awake."

For a second, that voice sounded like Scorpius and his response to that was to rear up and shuffle backward. He slammed into the wall of the bunk, jostling his left shoulder, which drew a restrained grunt of pain from him.

Then he realized that it wasn't Scorpius, but rather the head medic. He blinked, and felt what little resources he had been able to muster fade away again as quickly as they had appeared.

She raised both hands, palms out, and remained by the door. "Easy. You have to be careful about your shoulder for a bit. You're not Sebacean. The bone-knitting procedure was not as successful as it should have been."

With his heart hammering away in his chest, he just sat there and tried to assess how much damage he had really sustained, while he listened to his surroundings. The engine noise he could hear like a hum through the floor told him he wasn't on the command carrier anymore, but how the hell had that happened? He couldn't for the life of him figure out what was going on, and ended up thinking that it had to be a trick or a hallucination. Then he focused on her. "Where am I?" he nearly whispered. His voice was failing him.

"On a marauder. We're on our way to a rendezvous point," she said. "May I come closer?"

He considered it for a moment, then nodded halfheartedly. "Why?"

"Why what?" she asked and hunkered down in the middle of the floor, keeping enough distance to him to make him feel relatively safe.

"What rendezvous point?" He cleared his throat and grimaced at the flayed feeling this gave him.

"I was hired to get you off that command carrier. I'm sorry it took longer than it should have, but I needed to make Scorpius trust me first," she said, not really explaining what he wanted to know right now.

He considered the odds of this being true and suddenly became aware of how quiet his mind was. He probed subconsciously for the disrupting presence of the clone and couldn't find it anywhere. "It's gone," he whispered, more to himself than to her. Then he blinked and focused on her again. "This is a trick … isn't it? He's … testing me."

She frowned lightly at that claim. "Who? Scorpius?" she asked, to which he nodded lightly. "No, Scorpius thinks you're dead. Technically speaking, you were dead."

He stared at her, suddenly remembering that excruciating pain, the blood, the vomiting. "You gave me something," he rasped.

She nodded. "Yes. It was evident to me that if I left you there any longer, he would have killed you. But, again, you are not Sebacean. Your response to the fluid I gave you was far too strong."

This whole thing was making his head hurt, but he needed more information and, as long as she was willing to share, he would keep asking. "I threw up blood. I should be … dead. Or in severe … pain."

"Not blood. The fluid reacts to stomach acid. It expands, turns blood red, and causes severe cramps, before it shuts you down," she explained. "This is not the first time we've done this," she added with a small smile.

"Who's we?" he asked. It was getting harder for him to stay awake, but he was still anxious about what would happen next. He expected Scorpius to walk through the door any second now, commending her on her acting.

"I belong to an organization, who retrieve prisoners from the Peacekeepers," she said. "We are hired by family and friends to free whoever it might be, and we obfuscate our presence until the right time and then leave quietly again. For the most part, the Peacekeepers have no idea that we exist. Normally we are more, but this mission was considered very covert and therefore set up for only one operative. Namely me."

He was breathing heavily, fighting to stay conscious now, but he knew he was losing the battle, and it terrified him, because however implausible this was, he wanted nothing more than to hang onto this moment, where the first faint flicker of hope that he was free of the nightmare was starting to grow.

"You should rest. I can tell you the rest later," she said.

He shut his eyes and sank into the corner of the bunk. He didn't have the strength to lie down properly. "This isn't real," he muttered. "It's a trick."

***

Tavalis eyed him for a moment, then rose and approached slowly. When he didn't respond to her nearness, she took a hold of him and shifted him down on the bunk to get him more comfortable. "Frelling Peacekeepers and their frelling torture," she muttered, sighed deeply and shook her head.

It would take time to win his trust. She was fully aware of that. But they had time. It would take at least two weekens before they reached their destination.

A little hesitantly, she reached out and brusher her fingers over his brow. "They will not like the way you look," she said. "I'd better do my best to get some meat back on your bones before we reach our destination."

She rose and returned to the cockpit, where she settled down and opened a coms-channel after checking her coordinates. "Dekka Delta One. Do you read?"

For a microt, nothing but static answered her call. Then the channel clicked. " _Dekka Delta One. We read you loud and clear. What is your e.t.a.?_ "

"I've already passed the coordinates. Feel free to deploy at once. The sooner the better. Dekka Alpha One out." With that, she switched the coms-channel off again and leaned back in her seat. "Fly safe," she muttered, and closed her eyes for a bit.

Living among Peacekeepers always made her tired. She always had to keep her guard up when she was among them, and with a creature like Scorpius around, she had to balance on a knife's edge to not give away that she was lying her head off.

The thought made her smile. How haughty that creature was. He thought he could not be cheated, could not be lied to, yet here she was, flying away on one of his marauders with his most prized possession. And he was none the wiser.

"Fekkik," she muttered right before falling asleep.

***


	5. Chapter 5

The next time he woke up again, he came to more quickly and realized he was still in the crew quarters of a marauder. Or at least that was what Tavalis had said.

The fact alone that his mind was quiet, that he was allowed to sleep, that there were no guards and no restraints, made that feeble little flicker of hope grow stronger.

With the utmost effort, he slowly sat up, hissing at the soreness of his left shoulder. His left arm was still bandaged to his body and the fatigue caused by the cords was still very much present, but the absence of the madness-inducing wraith in his head along with the fact that nobody was bugging him about wormhole equations when all he had wanted to do was die, was enough to kick his survival instinct into gear.

Slowly, he pulled his legs over the edge of the bed and set his feet down on the floor, noting that he wasn't wearing any boots. They sat on the floor next to the bunk. Holding onto the top edge of the bunk, he got unsteadily to his feet and first then noted that the sling holding his left arm tied to his body, along with the t-shirt he was wearing, were both caked in dried blood. He grimaced at the thought, wanted nothing more than a long hot shower right now, but had no idea how he was going to get out of this damned sling, or if he could remain on his feet long enough to accomplish that.

Since keeping focused wasn't something he did easily at the moment, his attention was drawn inward to the fact that he was parched. On rubbery legs, he made his way over to the open door and stopped again. The six steps from the bunk to the door nearly wore him down and he leaned against the doorframe, breathing like he'd run a marathon. "Shit," he muttered.

"You're up."

Her voice startled him and he pushed away from the doorframe too quickly and nearly lost his balance. Tavalis was quick to respond, though, and grabbed his right arm, stopping what would undoubtedly have been a very painful fall. The second she knew he had regained his balance, she let go of him, and the tidal wave of panic rising in him at her touch subsided again almost instantly. She was respecting his no-touch policy right now and that made a big difference.

"Careful. You don't want to rebreak that shoulder," she said. "And you really shouldn't be out of bed, you know. You should rest as much as possible."

He couldn't help a snort at that. In part because he was so tired, he could sleep standing up, but also because he had longed so desperately for someone to show him any kind of compassion for so long now, he didn't really know how to respond to it when it was given so willingly. Unsteadily, he scrubbed the back of his right hand over his lips and locked eyes with her. "I'm parched," he finally said.

The look in her eyes was clearly one of regret, and he wondered if that meant there was nothing to drink on this boat or she was sorry she hadn't thought of it herself. "Of course you are," she agreed. "You should go back to bed. I'll bring you something to eat and drink."

A sensation of vertigo hit him and he grabbed out for the doorframe to steady himself, before nodding once to confirm that he had heard her. But suddenly the idea of having to take those six steps back to the bunk was insurmountable. "Don't think I can," he admitted very reluctantly. In a roundabout way, he was asking for her help, but the thought of being touched by anyone right now made him queasy.

She eyed him without making any moves to step forward. "Do you need help?" she asked. "You do realize that if I have to help you, I have to touch you, right?"

He briefly closed his eyes, cursing the fact that he was this depleted, and finally nodded once. "Yeah," he agreed. "Can't be helped."

"Alright," she agreed. "You tell me when you're ready."

He looked at her again, trying to read her, trying to determine if he was dreaming this, or if it was real, then released his hold on the doorframe and reached his right hand out to her.

Tavalis took his hand and he briefly struggled against the almost panicky need to rip it out of her grip. Obviously, she was very aware of how he was feeling, because she remained where she was, watching him closely. When he managed to slow his breathing down to a steadier pace again, she briefly squeezed his fingers. "Closer?" she asked.

His breathing was still shallow and fast, and it was making him a bit dizzy, but he felt steady enough to allow her to get closer. "Yeah … before I … fall on my face," he pressed out.

His words made her smile and she stepped forward, every move she made slow and measured, and slipped an arm around his back, while drawing his right arm across her shoulders. He shuddered at the touch, but the mental revulsion ebbed away slowly while she helped him back to the bunk. He kept repeating a mantra silently, that she wasn't Scorpius, she wasn't a Peacekeeper and she was only trying to help him. It seemed to do the trick.

Once he was horizontal again, he just lay there for a moment, struggling for each breath, until everything settled down again, and he figured he wouldn't have that much trouble with her touching him from now on; at least not as long as she took it slow and didn't hurt him. It was very clear to him at this point that it wasn't so much the touching his subconscious shied away from, it was the prospect of pain.

On some level, his baser instincts equated touch with pain right now, and he knew he would have to get over that as fast as possible. Allowing her to get close would help, but until he found out for certain that she hadn't lied to him about this escape, he would have to settle for subduing his fear rather than getting over it at once.

"How long?" he asked.

She frowned. "For what?"

He grimaced at that and chomped down on his lower lip. Talking was still a pain in the neck. He wanted to be able to talk normally, but being out of breath and dead tired made it hard for him to string two words together and make sense. "How long … was I … on the command … carrier?"

"Oh," she said. "According to the medical file I found on you, almost three monans."

"Aw shit," he groaned. Three months of near constant torture? This was going to take time to get over, he thought, and then suddenly realized that he was accepting this as truth. The feelings this realization stirred in him made him suck in a breath and hold it.

She was a dedicated medic, it would seem, because she noted easily when his feelings changed. "What's the matter?" Tavalis asked, a note of concern in her voice.

"I can't believe … I'm out," he whispered and cleared his throat again, wincing at the soreness. "I can't believe … I survived that."

"To be honest, neither can I. I have seen a lot of misery in my time, but this …" She shook her head. "You must have a very strong survival instinct." She paused, her expression a little tense. "I'll get you some water."

He watched her go and wondered why exactly his survival instinct had to be that strong, when he had nothing left to live for. So far, he hadn't had the time or the fortitude to mourn his friends, mourn the loss of Aeryn, and it all welled up in him now, making him choke up.

Tavalis returned a moment later with a bottle and a packet of something he couldn't define and stopped short. "Are you alright?" she asked.

He nodded once, then shook his head, still too choked up to say anything for a moment. Instead he grabbed the bottle she handed him and gulped down half of the contents before stopping. Then he focused on her. The water did him good, it sharpened his mind a little, and he had one burning question he needed an answer for before he could decide how he was going to respond to this 'rescue'. "Who sent you?"

She eyed him for a moment, a twinkle in her eye. "I was hired to retrieve you by Aeryn Sun," she said.

For the longest moment, he just stared at her. "That's impossible," he finally said, his voice a little stronger now. "She's dead."

Tavalis unwrapped the packet and held it out to him. "She didn't look very dead when I spoke to her two and a half monans ago," she said.

He eyed the foodcubes, then grabbed them when his stomach rumbled. He was starving, desperate for real food, but this would of course do in a pinch.

"She had a severe limp, though. Said she'd been shot by the Peacekeepers that took you," Tavalis continued. "She hired my organization to retrieve you. There wasn't much she could have done on her own to help you."

"Don't believe you," he muttered, although there really wasn't anything he wanted more than to believe her.

She looked neither surprised nor offended at his words. Instead, she shrugged lightly. "There's not much more I can say to convince you," she said.

The foodcube tasted of nothing, like always, and despite the fact that he was hungry, he let his hand drop and just lay there for a moment. "Was she … alone?"

"When I spoke to her, yes, she was," Tavalis agreed.

"No one else around? No … Nebari. Hynerian. Maybe a … Luxan?" he asked, trying to stifle the urge to believe without proof. When it was all he wanted to do, all he wished for, it was hard to doubt. And it was that inability to doubt that always got him in trouble.

"I must admit I didn't pay that much attention. We met in a bar. There were a lot of other patrons around," she said. "I was there to meet Sun. She was wounded. She paid me half up front, told me to bring you back alive." She frowned, the look in her eyes getting a little distant. "She did say something strange, though."

He focused fully on her, hoping against hope that she would say something that would eliminate doubt. "What?"

"Well, it was an open bar, half the walls were missing. I asked her a lot of questions and when I told her what the price would be, she said she needed some air and stepped out into the street for a few microts, then came back and we concluded the transaction," Tavalis said. "I thought that was … a very strange thing to say, considering that we were practically outdoors."

For the longest moment, he couldn't even convince himself to breathe. Then he slowly sat up, never losing eye contact with her. "Aeryn's alive?" he nearly whispered.

Tavalis smirked. "Yes, she is. And she was pretty much livid," she agreed. "She was at the time I met her. Angry doesn't even begin to cover how she seemed. Livid is pretty much the correct word here."

If Aeryn was alive, chances were the others were too, and it filled him with so much relief, that he completely deflated. "Aeryn's alive," he muttered and dropped back down on the bunk. It jostled his shoulder, but he barely noticed. "Oh god," he rasped and draped his right arm over his face.

***

**Two solardays later**

After following the course, she had programmed into the marauders autopilot, for two more days, it was time to make landfall. She had the whole route planned out, knew which worlds were safe and which weren't, and this was going to be the first place they would change transports.

John was doing better. He was still fatigued and would continue to be in that state until the cords were removed, but he was nothing if not resilient. He had gone from being near panicky just at the prospect of being touched to being willing to accept some help without flinching.

He was very good at suppressing how he felt, she realized quickly, because the fear was definitely not gone, and she had already decided that the transfer to the new ship would have to happen without anyone else around. That was a given anyway, because if anyone recognized him, the gig was up, and Tavalis was not willing to make such a mistake. She was getting paid well to avoid it.

Currently, John was sitting on the co-pilot's seat, watching their approach to the planet with weary eyes. "What's that planet called?"

"Pedor," she countered. "There's a new ship waiting for us here. We'll have to change transports a few times. Just in case."

He nodded. "Also a marauder?" he asked and glanced at her.

"No, a yacht," she said and smiled. "It will be much more stylish than this bucket. And it will be fully stocked with fresh food."

He glanced down himself. She had found clean clothes for him and he was dressed like a Peacekeeper, but his physical condition made it impossible for him to pretend to be one. "Can't pass as a … Peacekeeper right now," he said as if channeling her thoughts.

"No, you can't. And you shouldn't. We can't risk that anyone recognizes you. I've asked them to clear the landing field, claiming we have the clandarian flu. Highly contagious, very deadly," she said and arched an eyebrow. "It will also ensure that they will destroy the marauder at once."

"Smart." He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Are you … Sebacean?"

She glanced at him, slightly confused by his question. "Don't I look like one?" she asked.

"Yeah, you do," he countered and turned his head to face her. "I just … haven't seen … Sebaceans with red hair before."

For some reason, it made her smirk. "It's a genetic alteration. Common practice for missions like this one," she explained. "I met this Interion once. She was … highly excitable. And whenever she got upset, her hair turned bright red. Hence the color."

He eyed her for a moment, then returned to his staring contest with the outside. "What's a … drannit?"

Tavalis glanced at him. "Excuse me?" In her humble opinion, he asked a lot of strange questions. But, she also figured that he hadn't had a meaningful conversation with anyone in three monans and she therefore made allowances for the awkwardness of this question.

Although he seemed to be pretty far from a smile most of the time, he did manage a smaller version on this one. "A drannit. What is it?"

"That is a frelling odd thing to ask," she claimed and eyed him closely. "You really don't know what it is?"

"No, I don't. I figure it's … rude?" he countered and met her eyes dead on.

"Rude? Well, it's not a word you use in polite conversation. That's for sure," she said. "It's a slang word. It basically means asshole. As in, literally."

He arched his brows at that and rubbed at his left arm. "Oh … I thought it was … something worse," he said.

She decided not to ask where he had picked up that word, and instead turned her attention toward their landing vector. "Once we set down, let me move what little I brought to the new vessel. Stay here until I come back for you," she said and glanced at him.

"Okay," he agreed readily. He didn't look like he was up to much other than just sitting up right now.

Half an arn later, the marauder settled down on a deserted landing pad, right across from a very nice-looking yacht. Tavalis smiled and got up. "Be right back," she said and hurried to the rear to grab her meager belongings to transfer them to the yacht.

***

John just sat there and stared out at the other ship. It had dawned on him how deeply damaged he was right now, because even though Tavalis had told him something that should have convinced him that Aeryn was still out there, he still couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it until he saw her again. And it broke his heart a little bit that Scorpius had managed to kill that part of him.

He closed his eyes and grabbed a hold of his left shoulder. His fingers were weak, but the touch still made his shoulder ache. It definitely wasn't healed yet, and the memory of the event that had led up to the injury had given him bad dreams.

At the same time, he figured he still hadn't really caught up to the fact that he was out of Scorpy's reach. He still expected to wake up on the floor of that cell any minute now, and he knew that if that happened, it would break him. He could not handle it, if he had to realize that this wasn't real.

"Ready?"

He jerked, because he once again hadn't heard her come back, and he blamed the fatigue for his lack of concentration. "Yeah," he said and slowly got up. Every move he made, made him feel hampered and it was starting to bother him to no end. That of course meant that he was doing better mentally, but the physical restrictions those damned cords put on him lingered, and he knew it was going to drive him insane sooner or later.

Tavalis led the way to the back and walked down the loading ramp, and for a second there he was grateful they weren't in one of Moya's pods. Having to climb down the steep steps would have been murder on his resources.

The wind hit him in the face the second he cleared the ramp and he stopped to let it sweep over him. Fresh air, a tang of ocean riding on it, made him homesick like never before, and he briefly had to struggle against his surging emotions.

"We have to go," Tavalis said. "The longer we remain, the more likely it is that someone will turn up."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, and started moving again. He felt like an old man, decrepit, barely able to walk on his own, and the thought that this crap might be permanent suddenly washed over him.

The yacht would have made him gape before this little adventure to the ninth circle of hell, but now all he saw was an obstacle, because the dreaded ladder he had been glad to avoid on the marauder, was the only access into this vessel. He stopped a few feet from it and eyed it doubtfully. "I can't climb that," he said.

Tavalis frowned lightly, focused on the ladder and grimaced. "Frell. I hadn't thought of that," she said, mostly to herself. "There's no other way into the yacht. I can help you."

The ladder consisted of nine rungs and the mere thought of having to climb them made him tired. "Beautiful," he muttered and figured he would have to try. Tavalis had cut the bandaging of his left arm down to a sling, which meant he could use it, but not to hold onto anything. All he had was his right hand and that wasn't good for most things right now.

It took some doing and he felt like a damned kid, having to rely on her to make sure he didn't fall off the damned ladder, but eventually he made it to the top and could step into a short little entryway, that led into the main corridor running through the yacht.

Once inside, he had to lean against the wall for a moment, his legs shivering beneath him, his breath coming in shallow little puffs. It took him far longer to regain his breath than it should have, and by then Tavalis had closed the hatch behind them and had gone ahead to the cockpit. This he knew only because the engines started up.

A moment later, she came back for him. "I think you'd better lie down for a bit," she suggested and slipped an arm around his back to support him.

He still had a tough time with the touching, but not to the extent that he wouldn't accept the help. "Nah, I'm good," he claimed, but ended up on a bed anyway, because his legs gave out and she barely managed to stop him from taking a header into the floor.

***

**Four solardays later**

Tavalis was starting to worry a little when he didn't really improve much over the next weeken. They changed transport every second day and she was forced to change strategies and make sure they were given transports that were easy to get into, because he lacked the ability to recover from his ordeal.

What worried her most was the fact that his shoulder made little to no progress. She sent a request for a medical transport at their next shift instead of the less conspicuous private transports, and made it part of her planning to keep a keener eye on his lacking recovery.

One thing that had changed was his attitude, though. He was frustrated, and refused to listen to reason some of the time. That told her clearly that his mental state was improving, and she understood that it affected him in an adverse manner that he couldn't move properly.

They left the old transport behind and headed toward the boxy medical transport, when something she had not planned ahead for happened. Like every time, he was a few steps behind her, and that only because she paced herself so he could keep up.

She had almost reached the loading ramp for the medical ship when she heard him make a strangled sound. Concerned, she turned back to face him, and noted the odd, stiff way he was standing still. "What's wrong?" she asked. His expression had tensed to the breaking point.

"Can't … move," he pressed out.

It took her a microt to understand what was going on, and when she did, she quickly scanned the immediate area. "Frell," she then growled. Something in the area had activated the cords. As long as he didn't start moving against his will, though, she would assume that it was a signal that had unfortunately hit the right frequency and not someone with an actual control box.

Before she could decide on a course of action, though, he exhaled explosively and dropped to his knees, teetering for a microt, before she could reach him and stop him from falling over. The fact that he reached for her arm and grabbed on told her the signal had shut off again, but this was going to be a problem.

"Easy," she soothed, wrapped her arms around him and got him back to his feet. "Let's get the frell out of here before someone takes an interest," she added and helped him over to the ramp and into the medical transport.

Inside she got him onto one of the cots and strapped him down before closing up the ramp. In her haste, she had still noted how pale he had gone, and wondered briefly if it was only because of the shock that the cords had been activated, or if the cords had actually done some damage.

"We have to get on our way immediately. I'll check in on you once I've activated the autopilot," she said and didn't wait for an answer.

***

John just lay there and stared up at the ceiling of this antiseptic-smelling bucket, and tried not to let this experience set him back a week. The problem with the cords was that they hurt like hell when they activated, and the pain was overshadowing everything, even though it amounted to little more than a hefty ache in every muscle in his body.

The transport shuddered until it left the atmosphere of the planet behind. After that, the ride smoothed out and moments later, Tavalis turned up again. She looked anxious, worried, and it helped him a little that she wasn't indifferent to his plight.

"Can you … remove them?" he rasped.

She frowned while activating some machinery around him. "The cords?" she asked.

"Yeah," he agreed, caught between hopeful and scared right now.

"No," she said. "Even with this medical transport, I have no means to extract them."

He kept staring at her and the distinct sensation that she wasn't telling him everything rose in him. But the fear of what she might say stayed his hand. He didn't want to know right now if they could be removed or not.

"I'm just going to run the bioscan. I need to know if there's more going on here than the cords," she said. The ceiling above him lit up and he closed his eyes against the harsh light. "It will only take a few microts," she assured him, her attention on the display on the wall next to the cot.

The scanner shut off again after only a few moments, and he blinked a few times to get the after effects of the light to stop creating bright spots in his field of vision. Then he looked up at her, at the way she studied the readouts with a frown furrowing her brow, and wondered if he was in trouble. "What's it say?" he asked.

She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out again slowly. "This is frelled," she said. "I have done a little reading on neuro cords. Your body is rejecting them, which is why you're so tired. Essentially, your defenses are on high alert all the time." She looked down to meet his eyes. "It's not good for you to be in this state for too long."

He looked away. She wasn't really giving him anything he hadn't realized himself, and it made him wonder what else she wasn't telling him. A part of him chastised himself for being so paranoid, but the majority of his subconscious couldn't care less if he was seeing shadows around every corner. It would keep him alive and breathing for now. "I figured as much," he agreed tiredly.

"Don't worry. We'll find a way to get rid of them," she said and patted his shoulder lightly. "I'll keep reading. I'll find something."

He looked back up at her. "Are you actually … a medic?" he asked. This was another thing he wasn't really sure he wanted to know, but it felt like a fairly safe topic.

"Yes, I am," she said. "I was trained in the private sector. I was never conscripted by the Peacekeepers, thank Cholok."

"So, you … spend all your time … pretending to be one … instead?" he asked.

This brought a rueful smile to her lips. "It could look that way, couldn't it?" she agreed and settled down on the edge of the cot. "Truth be told … this is my last assignment. With a high-profile case like this, I can't go back. I can't hide among the Peacekeepers anymore."

He frowned lightly. "Sorry for … messing up your … career."

Her smile stayed on. "I'm set for life. I have no regrets," she said. "So, don't worry about that."

"You're loaded, huh?" he asked and felt the first faint stirrings of his old self surfacing.

The term made her give him a bewildered look. "Loaded?" she asked.

"Wealthy," he said.

She gave him a strange look. "You could say that, yes," she agreed.

He grabbed his left shoulder, a little put off by the continuous ache there. "Maybe I should … marry you then," he said and managed a pained smile.

Tavalis eyed him for a moment, obviously trying to figure out if he was serious or not. "I don't think Sun would appreciate that," she finally said.

He managed a halfhearted chuckle at that one. "No, I don't think … she would," he agreed. "Forget I asked."

She shook her head lightly and got up again. "Get some rest. I'll turn on the field. It will help you heal," she said and switched something on. It sent a warm glowing light down over him that almost felt like sunlight on a spring morning.

He let out a small sigh and decided to follow her suggestion for now. The light was already making him feel better and right now, he would take any improvement he could get.

***

Tavalis returned to the cockpit and sank down on the pilot's seat, her expression tight. There were things about the cords she couldn't tell him yet, things that would make it very difficult for him to see the future, she surmised.

"Frell," she muttered, then leaned forward and slid a chip into the com-station to encrypt the connection she was about to make. "Dekka Delta One. Do you read?"

She waited for a moment before the connection clicked. " _Dekka Alpha One. We read you loud and clear. How far are you?_ "

"I just left Mofforo behind," she replied. "Any word from the customer?"

" _Communication came through yesterday. She will be expecting you sooner than we thought. Next landfall_."

Now that was good news. "Excellent. I'll be there in two solardays. Any special requests?"

The connection crackled for a microt. " _Only that the cargo arrives in one piece and up to standards._ "

She paused before speaking. What the frell did that mean, up to standards? If Sun was expecting him to return unscathed, she would be angry at the state he was in. "Inform the customer that the cargo is in one piece, but a little banged up. The damage happened prior to loading, but it should be repairable."

" _Copy that, Dekka Alpha One. Fly safe._ "

She smiled a little sadly. Despite what she had said to John, she was going to miss this. These covert operations were thrilling at best. "Dekka Alpha One out."

She switched the com-system off again and pulled the chip out of the slot, then leaned back on her seat. Two more days and this was all over. Hopefully.

There was that little extra incentive that he might need a medic at his side until the cords came out. She had heard the rumors about these fugitives and assumed they could use some medical assistance, if they didn't have a medic on board.

"At least it'd give me something to do for a while longer," she muttered.

***


End file.
